


The Pack

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Imprinting, In Panem, No Games, Real Wolf Mating Habits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Nobody knows how the epidemic started. No one speaks of it openly. It’s taboo to bring it up in conversation; but every lunar cycle, our bodies go through a painful shift, lending us a lupine form for the duration of the full moon. The cycle begins tonight.Based on Everlark Fic Exchange tumblr challengePrompt #28:The majority of the district are werewolves but it’s forbidden to speak out loud about it. Everlark are mates since young. (Follow real wolves traits; packs, behaviors, mates, knotting, in heat) submitted by animekpopxx@tumblr.com*Wolf*traits.





	1. A Memorable Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anime1angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anime1angel/gifts).



> This is a work of fan fiction, for which I have perceived zero financial compensation. All the characters and locations of THG belong to Susanne Collins.
> 
> Warnings: Vague descriptions of injury in Werewolves.
> 
> I want to hank my Beta: the awesome Savvylark, who has make this mass of blabbering words into something readable. You are the best!!!  
> Also, I want to recognize and thank everlarkingjoshifer@tumblr.com for the amazing banner! Is so pretty!!!  
> last but not least, I want to thank anime1angel for the prompt. This story wouldn't be here if not for her precious brain! 
> 
> Now, I'm gonna give everyone a fair warning, theres "Future Explicit “Anthropomorphic” mating habits" in this fic... or the opposite of that, whatever it is, which means, they will have animal traits at some point. Not straight up bestiality, mind you. Just beware.

 

 

Nobody knows how the epidemic started.

There are theories, of course, that the Capitol released an infected mutt in the wilderness that somehow came in contact with a district dweller ages ago. The infection spread like wildfire before anyone could do a thing about it.

No one speaks of it openly.

It’s taboo to bring it up in conversation; but every lunar cycle, our bodies go through a painful shift, lending us a lupine form for the duration of the full moon.

The cycle begins tonight.

The pack follows the arch of the moon, crawling across the sky, full and bright. Our swift legs lead us up a well-known worn path until we reach the highest point of the hillside.

My father, being one of the elders, howls a sonorous, almost musical call that rest of the pack responds with yips, yelps and woofs.

Wolves come from all sides of the woods to merge in a circle, hopping, strutting and dancing under the moon that bathes everything as far as the eye can see in light. But the excitement only lasts a few minutes. We only have a handful of hours before sunrise and a whole district to feed.

In a matter of minutes we divide in groups and disperse back into the wilderness to hunt. The voracious hunger pressing in our bellies spurs us to find prey we can only hunt tonight, while we have the strength and drive of the wolf on our side.

This season we will comb and explore the eastern ridge of the hillside and the woods beyond, leaving the rest of the forest untouched. This is how we can guarantee the preservation and population size of our food sources.

As my father always says, “No sense running amok like we’re only instinctive, mindless beasts consuming every living creature in the woods. That’ll just kill our livelihood, then where would we be? As long as you respect other creatures‘ right to live, Mother Nature will provide for you, Katniss.”

This wisdom has helped us endure even the harshest times, when prey is scarce and food is down to slim pickings.

My father howls again, but this time the call is just for me. My name is Katniss Everdeen, I’m 13 years old, and I’m hunting down a rabbit for supper; but I’m still learning the ropes. Tracking, foraging, chasing, flushing out my marks have been all easy, what the elders call “the makings of a good hunter,” but my father doesn’t want me to be just “good.” He wants me to be “heck darn exceptional.”

So besides the basics of hunting, father wants me learn patience, respect and ‘foresight.’ I’m not completely sure what the last means, but I guess is important because he talks of it an awful lot when we hunt during the day… He’s also teaching me to hunt during daytime, with weapons and tools so we have fresh meat even when the moon isn’t full.

Everyone in the district has two jobs, one we do for the Capitol while the sun shines: mining coal, tending crops or cattle, making fabrics, or tinkering with machines, anything the Capitol people need to live, we work for; then there’s our other job, the one that truly matters for our survival. We do it during the full moon when our bodies stop being people bodies, and we walk on four legs and furry paws.

My job is to hunt, just like my father before me and his father before him. We all feel the same quickening of the blood, the euphoria that takes over our senses and all that matters is the chase and catch. The only word I can describe it as is exciting. But father wants me to keep my head when the animal takes over my body. He says that our minds are still ours whatever we look on the outside, so he’s teaching me and other youngsters to hunt in the right mindset.

That’s his job I guess, to make sure we are still ourselves in our heads while we are physically different.

My father grunts when I return. I’m anxiously pacing in front of him, because my bunny could be very well gone by now, but he commands me to sit for a moment, attempting to explain through snorts and growling yawns something about keeping my distance and sniff out the air for other predators, but I’m growing impatient.

We are the top of the food chain during the full moon, maybe this lesson applies during daylight hunting, but right now my rabbit hops from under the brush and I take off without heeding my father’s calls.

I’ve frighten the rabbit in my haste. I see it jump into a bush and makes a dash beyond what I assume to be its burrow, so I take a big leap after it.

As a hunter, I’m built with long, strong hind legs that end in elongated paws with short, flexible toes sort of like human feet, except I have retractable claws for toenails. I’m slim and nimble, and I can easily clear the bush obstructing my way in one jump, but the terrain on the other side is basically a crumbling slope. I can’t stop myself from sliding to the bottom of the hill.

When I’m sure footed on a grassy patch of earth, I shake myself of dust and twigs and other debris. I can hear my father at the top of the hill barking at me to get back up the hill. I scan the drop for a path up, and notice a bunch of openings on the side of the mountain on the far side. I’m not stupid. Father has told me to stay away from caves unless I’m with an adult, and a scout has given it a looksy first.

I plan to give it a wide berth. I’ve filled my quota of recklessness for the day. I’ll be a good, obedient girl for the rest of the night.

My father it’s getting impatient at the top of the hill. I think he’s started to look for a way down, and I see the heads of the rest of our hunting party pop one by one over the edge.

This is humiliating!

I start climbing up, but the dirt under my paws is loose and I slide back down. I try again with the same results, and then I fall on my bottom so hard that I have to sit and whimper for a moment.

But my foolish noise called attention to myself.

My party above began calling, howling and crying in order to warn me of the danger; as if I couldn’t smell the foul best myself! I’m just surprised at how fast everything happened.

One second I’m on my ass whimpering, the next there’s a gigantic, angry bear charging me. I’m bigger that the average wolf, but I’m still a juvenile lycanthrope, I couldn't fight a fully grown bear on my own, but I don’t have to! My first reaction is to cower by the rocky wall, close my eyes and wait to be mauled, but I hear the loud, heavy thud of a body landing in front of me.

I’m not quite sure who it is. I don’t recognize his smell, but it is pleasant even for a werewolf: cinnamon and dill over fur. I think if this is the last thing I smell before dying, it’s okay.

I crack one eye open, and see my savior fighting the bear. I’m completely shocked to see another juvenile, no larger than myself, but he’s vicious, strong and fast.

They go at each other, full body slams, teeth and fangs sinking on thick fur, sharp claws looking to tear chunks of skin and flesh. My young kin gains the upper paw suddenly, jumping over a boulder and throwing his full weight on the back of the bear. He takes a bite of the brutes hide, and shakes his head violently, causing the bear to growl in pain. Then the bear swings an arm backwards, and catches the wolf’s leg and throws him off with little effort.

The young wolf yelps in pain, smacking onto a jagged rock and the beast rushes to finish him off, but out of nowhere a second wolf jumps between them. This one I recognize immediately. It’s my father!

He bares his big, sharp teeth accompanied by the low rumbling of his growl. The bear stops for a moment, studies this new challenger, and charges with renewed fury. My father dodges the attack easily, and draws the fight away from me and the other wolf, who is still trying to find his footing on the ground.

I’m watching with horror frozen to my spot. My father is definitely larger than me and the other juvenile, but he’s a hunter, not a protector. His body is built for chasing and stalking, not for fighting off threats. The bear could still cause him major damage if he’s not careful, but father is smart and more agile than his agresor and soon he’s backed the beast a few feet away, back into the thick of the woods.

I seek our chance.

I approach my rescuer and nudge his side with my nose. He snaps a bite before realizing I’m friendly. He tries to follow me but after two steps he collapses heavily. He tries to stand up once more, but barks in pain and falls under his weight. His leg is badly hurt.

I go back to him, wiggle my body under his front legs and try to help him up, but I was wrong about us being roughly the same size. He’s bigger and heavier than I am. I can’t see him very well from this angle, so I’m not sure if he belongs with the group of hunters or not.

Every individual in the pack has a specialized job, and each of us belong to subgroup with a particular task. We have hunters, scouts, protectors, nannies and pups. Compared to common wolves, our ranks are very differently organized. We don’t have just one overall Alpha we have submit to, but a Council of Elders that decide together what’s best for the pack.

Maybe my benefactor was just a trainee patrolling the hunting grounds, though that seems unlikely. Neither protectors nor scouts send juveniles out to patrol on their own.

A more likely situation could be that he is a rover.

Sometimes when young wolves comes from human parents they don’t immediately know where they belong, neither what are their strengths or abilities, so they rotate around each group to test themselves until they find where they fit. Could this be the case with this guy? I’m not sure, all I know is that he did something for me tonight I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay him for.

My rescuer and I take one tentative step forward, but I realize pretty quickly that this arrangement won’t work. My fellow wolf is too heavy for me. I let him hop off me, and I run to the foot of the hill. I whine at the ones up top, and to my surprise I see adults pacing the edge. One of them produces an aggravated bark that sends all the youngsters backwards.

A moment later, the same wolf descends down a narrow trail of rocks I hadn’t noticed before. He doesn’t acknowledge me, going straight to the hurt wolf. The bigger wolf head butts the younger one, until the latter stands, and then does something similar to what I did by getting under the other wolf’s chest, except he successfully lifts him up completely off the ground.

The younger one protests, but he’s so weak that his eyes aren’t even open. The newcomer snorts with annoyance and glares at me. He grunts ordering me to follow.

I try to lag behind. I haven’t seen or heard my father since pushing the fight deeper into the woods, but the wolf turns around and snaps at my tail, leaving me no choice but to pick up my pace.

Because of his impatient demeanor, I assume this is none other than Haymitch Abernathy.

Even as a man, Haymitch is a contrary one, but everyone puts up with his confrontational personality, because he’s really smart and practical.

He snaps at me again, I think he’s just sour about having to haul such a heavy burden up a hill. My father is a few human years older than Haymitch, but he’s undoubtedly in better physical shape than the snarky man.

I’m starting to get aggravated myself.

We trudge all the way up, and meet a whole group of protectors, ready to leap down and search for my father. But suddenly, one of the young hunters howls, jumps and chases his tail.

We all look below, and see my father trotting back with my stupid rabbit hanging from his mouth.

The rest of the wolves copy the first one, celebrating my father’s return, with a prize to boot, regardless of how scrawny the prey.

A scout crashes through the brush, and comes to a short stop just as Haymitch is setting the now unconscious young wolf on the ground. The scout seems agitated. He circles the youngster, and I discern similar scents from him. Looking closer at the scout, I can tell he’s only just a bit older than my rescuer. I reckon they must be siblings.

My father reaches the summit, and stops in front of me, dropping his kill at my feet. I look at him, but his big round lupine eyes are full of reproach, so I drop on my belly and coward away a little when his warm breath reaches my face. He makes a nagging noise before giving me a punishing nip at my ears.

Father steps away from me, and goes to the brothers.

The scout is nuzzling his snout into his brother’s neck, whining and purring.

The biggest wolf in the pack, a fellow named Thom, steps forward. They help position the unconscious wolf on his back, and in a blink of an eye, he’s gone, running towards the district. Father motions me to follow.

I’m not stupid enough to question him this time. I do as he says and jog after the other wolf with my head down and my tail tucked between my legs.

We are not supposed to be inside the district fence while in wolf form, but on the rare occasion there’s a medical emergency we sneak in, as stealthy as we can.

We encounter one of the few unfortunate peacekeepers on watch during the full moon. They usually hate it, but they still have to patrol the district for the humans left behind. Luckily it’s been ages since any of them has been harmed by one of us. We’ve learn to control our mind over our animalistic urges. For the most part we are friendly to humans, but our appearance is still very unnerving to behold.

Long pointy teeth, razor sharp claws, and some of us can be as big as buck. I’d be scared to death too if I encountered myself out roaming the street in the dark.

“Who goes there?” The Peacekeeper calls, he certainly doesn’t sound as shaky as our usual fare. “There’s a curfew in place! Go back to your house!” He says again.

The wolf carrying the sick one steps forward from under the cover of shadows we’ve been walking in. The adult growls lowly, showing cruel, long, slobber dripping fangs. I think he’s going for menacing.

The peacekeeper lifts his visor off, and arches a reddish eyebrow above a green, unimpressed eye.

I breathe easier. It’s just Darius.

“Thom, I know it’s you, so cut it out with the dramatics and get on to wherever you’re going. Just stop trying to sneak up on me, would ya? These shotguns aren’t harmless props, you know.” Darius chastises my companion patting his gun.

I can’t believe the blasted idiot starts wagging his tail at Darius all friendly like. I grunt at the older wolf, we’re supposed to be on a mission!

After settling back, we take off in the direction of my house. In a few minutes, we are at my porch. I climb the steps and start scratching at the door.

My mother comes forth with a heavy bottom frying pan held aloft. I stumble back startled, stepping on Thom’s foot, causing him to grunt in pain.

“Katniss?” My Mother whispers in surprise. “Are you hurt?” She steps out of the house throwing caution to the winds.

I deny it as best I can without spoken language, but she’s already noticed my companions. She steps aside and let’s us inside the house. She hurries to the small bed I share with my sister, and picks up the bundle I know to be a sleeping Prim she goes into her own room. She deposits my sister in her bed and draws the curtains closed.

Sure, a curtain isn’t even a credible defense in case of an attack, but it's easier to pull as a barrier, that climbing into the cellar with a sleeping child in her arms.

I sit in front of the curtain, facing the room, protecting my little sister. One can’t be too careful around hurt, unconscious wolves. There’s no telling what they’ll be like once they wake up in pain and disoriented.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mother asks when Thom places her newest patient on the kitchen table.

Thom makes a series of noises, but my mother waves him off curtly.

“Never mind. I’ll asses his injuries right now, and get the whole story in the morning.” She sighs. “If you’re needed back in the woods, I think we are all set here. Please let the elders know the patient is in my care, and Katniss will stay to help.”

My head shots up. I groan. I hate healing duties! I can’t stand people’s pain, let alone seeing their blood, or worse yet, watching my mother cleaning and dressing them up.

Mother gives me a pointed look that shuts me up right away. I’m a lycanthrope, but I still shiver at a stern glance from my human mommy.

Nobody knows how the affliction works. The gene seems to get passed down arbitrarily, regardless of gender or generation. My mother came from unaffected parents, that yielded two children, one with “the lupine illness,” as some people call it, and the other one, herself, unaffected.

To her parents chagrin, mother married father, a werewolf, and father gave her two children, me: a werewolf, and Primrose: a human.

The Capitol pretends to be unaware of the condition, yet they officially forbid discussing, or even mentioning the “illness.” Looking for cures is out of the question, though it is easier to count the unaffected than it is to put a number on our kind’s population. A few brave souls still try to figure out how to combat the gene, because wouldn’t it be something if we could stop the morphing from happening? If we didn’t pass down the curse to our younglings?

My mother sets to work just as Thom steals back into the darkness outside. I whine quietly, watching the door with longing, but my mother puts me to work right away. I have to fetch stuff for her all over the place, which isn’t that bad; at least I don’t have to see her poking the poor guy’s leg and mopping clean the gashes left by the bear’s claws on his thigh.

It looks painful and raw, the tiny bit I accidentally saw.

She sends me outside to get water from the well, and I’m grateful of the remarked differences between my kind and that of a regular wolf.

We can walk erected, on hind legs, if necessary. Our hind paws work like human feet, elongated and flat. Our front paws are more akin to the animal’s paws, rounded and with very sharp claws, but we actually do have nubs that work similarly to opposing thumbs. We can’t grab things, but we can manipulate things easier.

I bring the water quickly. The moon is already descending, soon the sun will start to crest, and the pack will return home carrying the bounty of the wilderness beyond the district fence. I huff. I wish I was there.

I walk back into the house, and my mother thanks me for the water.

After a few minutes I peek around her shoulder, and noticed a neat row of stitches, replacing the open wounds on the wolf’s leg and part of his side.

Mother notices. “He’s got a few broken fingers in the right hand. But I’ll have to wait until he’s back to human form to set them.”

I sneeze a disgusted snort.

Mother just shakes her head. “Go to sleep, Katniss. You may as well rest before your father comes back to deal with whatever you did.”

My eyes widen in surprise and I just stare at her.

“What? You didn’t think I’d figure out your father sent you home as a punishment?” She says with a smug knowing tone, then she chuckles.

“Sweetie, your father has been looking forward to teaching you everything he knows ever since your first turning. He wouldn’t have sent you home, unless you’ve done something very irresponsible or reckless.”

Her light blue eyes soften, “Katniss,” she combs back the hair of my head, “Your father does what he does, because he loves you, and wants you to be—“

“Heck darn exceptional…”

Of course, instead of words, what came out of my snout when I attempted to finish the sentence was just a long string of canine sounds, incomprehensible to any ear except mine, but mother nods, seemingly understanding my meaning.

“Off to rest. I’ll watch over the boy, until the rest of the pack returns.”

I could’ve hop on my bed and go to sleep there, but being in bed without Prim just feels weird. So I strut back to the curtain hiding my parents sleeping corner, circle around an old threadbare rug that sits right under my parents bed and drop on it like one of those donuts the baker sells some times.

Sleep must’ve taken me immediately, because I come to in my bed, fully human, to whispered voices. This really hasn’t happen to me in over a year. Children with the illness, turn to wolves around their tenth human birthday. They’re considered pups, and have to stay with nannies that watch them, feed them and calm them down if they come from non-wolf parents until they’re 12 and physically mature enough to venture into the woods with the pack.

After that, every wolf has to find their vocation. That’s how everyone finds their place in the pack.

Some people figure out what they are good at easier than others, our bodies adapt to our jobs, and develop accordingly, wherever our strengths and skills are needed.

Scouts have to be swift and extra perceptive, they tend to be smaller and lankier, but they have the sharpest eyesight and can hear and sense things before anyone else does. Protectors are bulkier and heavyset, with claws as sharp and strong as iron blades, their paws are bigger than any wolves, and their teeth can pierce through wood if necessary. A protector's skin is thickest of all of us. They're though and big. Nannies are usually female, with the warmest coats and no-nonsense attitudes. Pups are just small versions of a normal wolf. They’re cuddly and playful. And I’ve already talked about myself as a hunter.

My mother has always said that good manners set people apart from the animals… even if one turns into a wolf on occasion. So I debate staying in bed and pretend I’m asleep, or eavesdrop on the conversation, because I’m awake enough to know that my parents are talking about me.

“She did what?” My mother raises her voice, and father shushes her, pulling her out into the porch.

I only hear him say, “Calm down, I took care of it—“

“That boy got hurt because of h—“

The door clicks shut and my breathing picks up, while my heart rattles frantically in my chest.

“It ain’t your fault, you know. At least, I don’t blame you.” The voice speaking is soft and quiet. It comes from the kitchen table.

“You’re awake?” I ask stupidly.

‘Of course he’s awake! How else would he have told you he didn’t blame you?’ I yell at myself.

“Well… yeah. I know you’re awake too and you heard your folks talking about the bear last night.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He reiterates after a second of deep silence.

I roll my eyes, because he’s being naively kind.

“It too was my fault. I went after that stupid bunny and fell right into the bear’s territory. Some hunter I am.” I grouse.

“Well… when you put it that way…” he chuckles. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll come up with something.”

I crack a smile at the ceiling, laying on my back.

I guess this boy ain’t half bad.

Finally, I sit up on the bed, braiding my long, dark hair for the day.

“So, how you feeling?” I grimace, shoving my feet into my boots. I’m wearing a tattered nightgown older than time itself, but who cares? It’s not like I’m about to meet the love of my life or anything.

The boy answers with a yawn, “I’m a bit sore, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.”

He sounds so nonchalant, it tickles me.

“So you make it a habit of fighting wild bears then?” I laugh at my own joke, but I’m taken aback when his answer comes quietly, like it’s a secret. Or a confession rather.

“No… just my mother.”

I swear, every hair in my body prickles.

This whole time I’ve been facing the wall, while making myself presentable, but I turn to see the boy.

He’s laid on his back on the table, his clasped hands rest on his stomach, his face is placidly calm as he stares at the ceiling as well. If it wasn’t for his bare feet twiddling nervously, I would say he was relaxed and untroubled. I notice his mop of curly, blonde hair is damp, a couple of sweat droplets form on his forehead.

I may be wrong, but I think this boy belongs to the baker.

So, he does come from non-wolf parents.

“Mmm… I’m Katniss,” I say, meekly. Taking a tentative step towards him.

“I know.” He says in that same, nonchalant tone, that I peg for fake.

“Oh…” I don’t know what to say for a moment. “Mmm… and you?” I’m a foot away from the table now, I can see his chest heave and fall with every breath he takes.

“I’m Peeta.” He says quietly. “Peeta Mellark.”

He finally turns to face me, and when his incredibly blue eyes collide with mine, it’s like an explosion goes off.

The whole world spins. Time stops and all the colors in the universe turn gray, except for the blue of his eyes.

I vaguely remember how just a minute ago I was sure I wasn’t about to meet the love of my life. Well, joke’s on me! Though I have nothing to compare this feeling with, I’m pretty sure I just imprinted on Peeta Mellark.

Which means: _I just met my mate for life, and I’m wearing a ratty sleep dress, older than time itself._

 

 


	2. 3 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as I promised on Monday! Here is chapter #2... 
> 
> This one is mostly an angsty filler, and it’s as the title suggest, 3 years after chapter 1.
> 
> Thank you to those of you commenting and leaving kudos, I <3 y’all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Savvylark, who crossed all my t’s and dotted my i’s, thank you for being so awesome!
> 
> Beautiful banner by the talented everlarkingjoshifer. Thank you to you too!!!
> 
> This chapter is time leap, I apologize to those of you who really loved the more childish Katniss from the first chapter, I wish I could give you more of her, but the way I’ve outlined this story there will be two more time jumps in order to keep the plot moving... hope that’s okay with everyone... I wished I had known 13 y/o K was going to be so popular, I would’ve stuck with her longer. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit on the angsty side, bare with me, we will go back to lighthearted in the next one. :)

I brace my forearm against a thick tree and point a finger towards a Tom turkey grazing about 10 feet away.

My hunting partner sees the bird and nods. He takes aim silently and lets his arrow fly, finding his mark true and clear. When the turkey drops sideways, Gale Hawthorne, hoots gleefully, rushing forward to retrieve his kill.

I roll my eyes at his euphoria. It’s not like he’s never killed a turkey before.

“Look Catnip! Clean shot through the neck!” He crows enthusiastically pulling the barely there arrow from the carcass.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at the nickname and answer as sincerely as I can.

“That’s impressive. Good shooting, Gale!”

Gale and I started hunting cooperatively during full moons two years ago. We work seamlessly well with one another. After our fathers took noticed, they pushed for daytime combined efforts.

Despite my original misgivings on the deal, the partnership translated surprisingly well in human form. Gale and I have a sort of visual shorthand we communicate through while out in the woods.

Outside the woods... is a different story.

Gale’s two years older than I am, and when we started hunting together during the day, he was as good as a man to me. Gale is similar to me in coloring: gray eyes, dark straight hair, and olive skin; he’s tall and lanky with a perpetual scowl on his face and a brooding disposition. He only seems to smile when he’s out in the wilderness. The same can be said about me, save I’m not angry at world around me… I’m just, introverted.

Although wolves hunt in groups, Gale and I just clicked differently than the rest of the pack. We can read the other’s movements during a chase with ease before anyone else in the party realizes what we’re doing. It helps a lot while trying to subdue bigger game; we are very efficient as a team, so we tend to pair with one another for the most part.

Most of the Elders were wary about the allegiance at first, afraid it’ll rub my mate the wrong way, causing tension in the pack, but their fears dissipated soon enough, after both my father and Peeta seemed unconcerned about it. In fact, my father actually laughed heartily during a council meeting where the partnership was brought up, and told the elders there was no contest between the two boys.

Though uncommon for younglings, Peeta and I imprinted on each other, and our bond is unbreakable.

I like Gale as a hunting partner, but that’s the extent of it.

Now, Peeta on the other hand… let’s just say my eighteenth birthday can't come fast enough!

It’s been 3 years since that day, but it’s still as fresh in my memory as if it had happened this morning:

One minute Peeta is laying on his back, staring at the ceiling while I shuffled closer to him curiously— in my raggedy nightgown— the next minute our eyes connect and the whole world drops from existence.

Looking into his eyes was like seeing color for the very first time. The blue of his irises stood out in contrast to the drabiness of the world. But it wasn’t just the colors that got truly vibrant, it seemed my other senses sharpened as well. I could smell the delicious aroma of cinnamon, dill and flour that emanated from his skin, and although it might’ve just been the insistent tattoo of my own heart drumming against my rib cage, I’m pretty sure I could hear his rapid heartbeat from afar.

And then, my parents materialized out of nowhere.

Well… maybe not ‘out of nowhere,’ my folks just came back into the house after stepping outside to discuss the reason ‘why’ Peeta was brought to mother so banged up in the middle of our hunting night.

My mother spoke then; what did she say? I don’t know. Her voice sounded like it was outside of a seal. For all I could discern, Peeta and I were under water, and my folks were on the surface, calling us to resurface.

Peeta sat up on the unyielding dining table. His eyes trained on mine, not even when my mother’s obscured figure stood in front of him— trying to either check his vitals or persuade him back down, I’m not sure-- did his eyes left mine. Then my mother’s presence started to block his line of vision, so he simply brushed her to the side with one strong arm, while sliding off the table.

As in a trance, I ran to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands reached for me, too, to caress my face or simply cradled it in his hands. My lips formed his name when his fingers curled around my neck, and then his lips crashed into mine for the very first time.

I held onto his shoulders for dear life, afraid that the connection would break if I let go, but I shouldn’t have worry about that. The only way our bond will break is if one of us dies, at which point is debatable whether the other will have much of a life alone. From the moment our lips touched, we vowed to protect each other from anything life throws at us.

But the bubble burst with my parents wrenching us apart.

I couldn’t understand why they did it, nor the way my father’s face looked, both bewildered and angry. My mother was just simply dumbfounded. I understood later that watching their 13 year old daughter making-out with a boy didn’t sit well with either of my parents.

My folks reluctantly recognized the “symptoms” of an imprint after I was able to explained with inadequate words the strange, all consuming, magnetic pull Peeta and I felt towards one another. They would know, having imprinted themselves, albeit at an older age than us.

Needless to say, Peeta and I haven’t as much as exchange chaste pecks on the cheek in front of anyone ever since. We manage to sneak some alone time for kissing purposes everyday, though. Once we kissed that first time, there was no quelling the need for closeness and each other’s lips.

We’ve gradually progressed from breathy, giggly, tumbling kisses, to more bold, intimate explorations. We haven’t yet crossed the ultimate physical milestone in our relationship, but we’re closer every day! The only thing holding us back, is Peeta’s sense of respect to my family, especially my father, as his elder. He claims this will just make it more special on our wedding day, when I turn 18, but I’m sure he gave his word to my father to wait; otherwise, I doubt he would keep bringing up my folks every time things start to heat up.

It’s both endearing and frustrating.

“Hey Catnip?”

Gale’s voice jerks me back to the present, so I grumble, “Yeah?” I look up and find him examining his arrow way too closely to be considered normal.

“I was thinking, you should sit with my family during the Harvest Festival this year. I mean, we spend all our free time out here together…” His gray eyes bore into mine, with an intensity I’m not completely comfortable with.

“Oh… um… I’ll ask Peeta and see what he thinks. He’ll probably enjoy talking with Posey. He loves children.” I say.

Gale’s whole countenance changes. He scowls and his shoulders tense. I’m not sure what I said to make him go back into brooding mode. Whatever it is, he has to get over it if he wants to bag at least one more piece to our haul before we call it quits for the day.

We don’t speak much the rest of our time out here, which suits me just right. We get another turkey and about five squirrels. All in all, it’s a very good day. I can’t wait to start gathering greens and roots, so I can go home and eat my share. I’m starting to get hungry.

We trudge through a well worn path to a hollow tree where we deposit our bows and quivers, before heading back closer to the district fence. It’s stupid. Everybody knows there are wolves amongst the humans, yet, having a weapon within district limits is a crime punishable by firing squad.

The hypocrisy sometimes is too much to handle.

Gale, who’s about three feet ahead of me, halts mid step, making my heart rate spike.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper harshly.

“Don’t know…” he trails off, taking a tentative step closer to our storage tree.

Then I see it, and my shoulders relax. I lower my bow, that I hadn’t even noticed I had already loaded when Gale stopped. I put back my arrow, since I won’t need it, and start the process of bunching things together to wrap with a waterproof cover before sticking the bundle into the trunk.

At the feet of the tree, are three mounds of freshly gathered roots, berries and herbs. Nicely piled up on top of clean cloth squares.

Peeta.

I walk past Gale who’s still staring at the offering suspiciously. It’s the first time he sees Peeta’s handiwork I guess.

“Oh look! Peeta was here and gathered the greens for us already!” I say cheerfully, stowing my already wrapped bow and quiver into the tree.

Then I kneel and proceed to inspect the berries, making sure those are all edible and ripe, but Peeta only made the mistake of picking deadly Nightlock once. It was a good thing we were out here with my father when it happened, because I started screaming at him hysterically about how he could’ve died and that he needed to pay attention. He had to hug me and soothe me back from my panic attack. My father took over and calmly explained to Peeta all about nightlock, and how to tell it apart from blueberries while eyeing me sideways.

Later, at home, since I kept waking up crying for Peeta to drop the berries, my father sat me on his lap, and did something he’d stopped doing when I’d turned 10. He sang lullabies while brushing my hair with his clever fingers, until all the tears were gone, and I felt ready to go back to bed.

He told me then, that he felt like he had been robbed of his little girl when he realized I had imprinted on a boy so young, but he knew neither Peeta nor I had control over the process. It just happened when two people were a perfect match, both emotionally and physically.

He knew all too well the fear that takes hold of your heart when you think your mate is in danger, because the bond is unbreakable, and if an imprinted pair were to lose one half, the other one would be damaged beyond repair. There would be no healing for the broken heart, and seeing that fear in my eyes that day, more than anything drove it home to him. I was Peeta’s already, even if I was still a little girl, and Peeta was mine to care and protect, even though he was a little boy himself. So he promised me, he’d teach us together, to survive the wilderness as humans and as puppies.

“Well, we didn’t need his help!” Says Gale gruffly, once more bringing me to the woods in a jarring pull to reality.

“Maybe, but now we can leave the woods early and have spare time at home with our families.” I say tying up a knot over the berries.

“Whatever. It’s not his responsibility to free up time for us.”

“Maybe not you, but it kinda is for me.” I shrug. It’s true. I’m Peeta’s mate, I’m his responsibility just like he’s mine.

Gale shakes his head. “Then take the lot to yourself. I’m no slacker, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“I’m no slacker either!” I snap. “Peeta’s my mate, and if he wants to lighten the load for me, I will sure as hell take it, just so I can spend a few minutes of our busy day together.”

“Suit yourself, Katniss.” He practically sneers.

“It does suit me, thank you very much!” I retort, yanking up the clothes full of roots, herbs and fruits, stuffing them into my game bag unceremoniously.

“And about the Festival,” Gale lobs over his shoulder as he stomps away, “never mind about sitting together!”

“Fine!” I yell back. “Jackass!” I mutter under my breath. “As if I had asked him in the first place. I have my own family and friends to sit with.” I grumble.

I’m within sight of the fence, and to my surprise, my eyes spy the unruly mop of blonde curls that makes my heart swoon.

My face breaks into a wide grin and I take off running in his direction.

“Peeta!” I call out.

He’s already heard me coming, and has already discarded his sketchbook and pencils in the process of standing up when I collide with him full force, body slamming him against the tree he was leaning on.

My legs go around his waist and he lifts me up as if I weight nothing, then he’s spinning me around while kissing my mouth. When the euphoria passes, and the need for air forces up apart, he rests his forehead on mine and smiles sweetly.

“Hey there, beautiful. I’ve missed you.”

We saw each other this morning at school, and then he walked me home after. Yet, there’s something special about seeing him in the forest during the day, when he’s supposed to be working the ovens at his family’s bakery.

“I missed you too!” I tell him, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. “How come you’re off so early?” I ask.

He lowers me to stand on my feet, then grabs my bag from the ground where it fell before I jumped into his arms; he slings it over his shoulder, never letting go of my hand he’s holding in his free one.

“I’ll escort you to your trades, then I’ll walk you home, and you’ll see.” He says giving me a half smile.

I’m too happy to object. The whole district knows that we are as good as married anyway, so nobody is gonna bat an eyelash at the muscular baker’s son shadowing me while I make my rounds.

First, we go to the hub, our black market, to exchange most of the greens for some paraffin and lard with Greasy Sae, the lady that runs the soup stall. Then I trade some of the berries at the hygiene stall. I get soap and a new razor blade for my father, since his is rusty and dangerous looking. When I’m done with that transaction, the young woman running the stall looks past me, at Peeta. I don’t particularly like the way she licks her chops right before her eyes focus back on me.

She leans forward and gives me a knowing wink. “I just got a new shipment of rubbers! It’ll cost you two rolls of good bread. These ones are Capitol grade rubbers, so you know they’re worth it!”

I stare at the woman in confusion. Then Peeta practically shoves me aside, and smiles at the her pleasantly.

“Good to know, ma’am. Thank you. We’re alright for now though.”

He then places one warm hand on my shoulder and another on the small of my back, and gently guides me away from the hygiene stall.

I trade a squirrel still with its pelt intact for some ribbons for Prim, since the festival is just around the corner, and she likes wearing new ones for the celebration. I save two squirrels for Peeta’s father, since he really has a taste for them and he trades fairly regardless of our connection through Peeta. After that, I’m ready to head home.

“Peeta,” I begin once we are on our way to my house. “What was that woman selling us?” I ask curiously. Watching his reaction closely. He didn’t seem comfortable with the woman’s offer, and I’m sure he knows exactly what she was selling.

He eyes me sideways, holding on to my hand. The tip of his ears turn pink. He’s embarrassed, which gives me a clue.

“Is a rubber something couples use when they mate?” I ask.

Peeta lifts one shoulder and makes a face. “Well… yeah. Humans do anyways. It’s supposed to keep you from getting pregnant, or sometimes even getting sick.”

“Oh.”

We’ve learned all about sexually transmitted diseases in Health class, so I see why humans might need the layer of protection. Wolves immune systems work differently. We don’t get sick that way, which I guess is a perk in comparison.

“So… you think she doesn’t know about us?” I ask, a little troubled.

I thought everyone knew about wolves, even if it’s supposed to be secret and forbidden to speak of it in public.

“Maybe not of US, per say, but of how things work with us, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah. It does.” Then I smile. “Should we tell her?”

Peeta gives me a look, but there’s no real bite in his reproach, so I lift on tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“We could still get pregnant, though, once I start my cycles.” I say after a moment.

“We’re not getting pregnant, Katniss.” He says firmly but in his sweet, placating tone.

“We could.” I insist.

He sighs deeply, pulling my hand into the crook of his elbow.

“No, we won’t.” He says. “First of all, we would need to have sex for that to happen. And second, we will be smart about it when we officially marry and start having sex.”

“The only reason we are not actively sexual now is because you won’t touch me.” I toss in half annoyed, half offended.

“Katniss… we’ve talked about this! It’s not that I don’t want you, I do, desperately sometimes. But I want to protect you, respect you—“

“Treat me like a porcelain doll that will break if you-- you poke me with your… you know!”

“If you can’t even call it by its name, then how are you supposed to convince me you’re ready to even see it?!” He exclaims, a little frustrated himself.

“I shouldn’t have to convince you of anything! You should take my word at face value and run with it!”

He stops in the middle of the Seam, just a mere block away from my house, and turns me to face him.

“Katniss,” He says looking straight into my eyes. “I do believe you want to do it. I want to do it. I can’t wait to do it… but, there’s a bigger reason why I keep asking you to be patient.”

We’re staring at each other. This is the first time he has even hinted at a secondary reason. I’m so curious about it, I forget I’m supposed to be annoyed with him.

“Why don’t you tell me then?” I say sweetly, giving him the secret smile I save only for him. Used smartly, that smile can get him to spill any secret he holds.

He kisses my forehead. And then sighs.

“I was gonna tell you anyway.” He says almost in defeat. “I haven’t been able to sleep well in days thinking about it. It’s why I came to meet you today, because I can’t keep it a secret anymore.”

He takes a shuddering breath, “The elders told me last week that I’m being challenged for you.” He says quietly.

“What?!” I practically scream. “How? Why? By whom? And what is that supposed to mean?”

Peeta takes a big breath, and pulls me forward towards my house.

“I’m not sure who’s issued the challenge. Apparently it's not just one wolf either. Haymitch told me that it’ll happen during your first heat— whenever that happens-- and I’ll have to fight them to stake my claim over you.”

“But we imprinted!” I cry out in outrage.

“Yeah, but for some reason, some in the pack don’t believe we could’ve imprinted for real, claiming we were too young, that there’s no precedence for couples as young as us. You’ve never had an estrus cycle-- whatever that is— and some of the elders said it was unfair for the other young prospects, that there was never a trial for the right to mate with you.”

We are just a few feet away from my house, so I grab Peeta’s hand and try to run towards home. My father must not know about this, otherwise he would’ve done something about i; I tell Peeta as much.

“Come on! We gotta tell my father, he’ll know what to do! He’ll tell the other elders—“

“Katniss…” Peeta stops me by yanking me back to him, and I truly dislike the tone of defeat he called my name in.

“Peeta, we need to tell—“

“He knows.” He says calmly. “He told me himself during the meeting.”

“But… he hasn’t said anything to me!” I growl.

“He thought you’d react badly, and maybe he was right, but I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. It’s been eating at me. I hate keeping secrets from you.”

“Why is he not standing up to the elders on our behalf?” I’m angry. I feel betrayed and lied to, so I start stomping home to confront my father.

But Peeta grabs my elbow, and again stops me in my tracks.

“Wait, sweetheart.” He pleads.

I stop willingly, because he almost never calls me pet names, unless is to convey something very meaningful and deep.

“Your father did try to dissuade the other elders, to no avail. Since they expect you to reach peak maturity in the next few months, they called me in last week to officially inform me that our bond is being contested. There will be a challenge during the full moon of your first estrus.”

He pauses, looking stressed.

“Your father was actually very angry at the whole council. He didn’t take it too kindly that they were treating his daughter like she was some commodity, a piece of real estate to bargain over. And we do have a few supporters in the council, Haymitch is a very outspoken one, and Ripper and Thom too, but they got outvoted.”

“Is there nothing we can do about it? I can refuse,” I pose.

Peeta smiles sadly. “You can try. I already said that I’ll fight whoever comes after you, if that’ll cement once and for all the debate. I’m a Protector you know… my fags are longer and stronger than most.” He bares his teeth in a funny motion that makes me smile, despite the painful knot in my throat.

He looks so silly doing it while only his very straight human teeth show. Not very fierce at all. But he’s right. What he lacks in dangerous looks in human form, he more that compensates as a wolf.

He’s at least twice bigger than my own father, and he’s still not considered an adult yet. His fur is thick and his claws are sharper than pretty much anyone. Why would any wolf be willing to face him off in a duel, beats me.

The thought makes me breathe easier. But just so. While no one has died in one of those challenges, the many we’ve seen over unmatched females in heat are actually kind of scary. Males fight violently for the right to mate with a female in heat. It’s not a pretty sight.

I never thought they would make me and Peeta go through that traumatic experience.

Most girls mated in that way, usually stay unmarked for a while, not really enjoying the display of male hormones and macho strength, instead, they become aggressive if pressured to find a mate and settle down.

“Come on. Let’s get you home. We should still talk to your father about this, now that you're not angry at him anymore.”

“Who says I’m not angry?” I quip.

He smirks at me before kissing me soundly and we step into my house, together.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is Peeta worried?” Asks my friend Madge.

She’s not a wolf herself, but her father is part of the council since he’s the mayor of the district. He really has no power in the council, not being part of the pack, but he still gets voting rights for certain things and gets to voice his ideas and opinions, so he may as well be part of the pack.

“Not as worried as I am.” I tell her truthfully. “He thinks that at the end, his right as my imprinted mate will prevail. I hope he’s right. I can’t see myself married or having children with anybody else.”

“Well, I don’t know what Peeta looks like as a… you know… Protector,” she whispers the last word, scanning her living room for eavesdroppers. We’re utterly alone, but one doesn’t just mention us willy-nilly. “But I’m sure he’ll be a force to be reckoned with, if anyone tries to step between you both.”

She nods in resolution, and my chest fills with warmth at her support. Madge has truly been a friend all this time. I can’t help but be grateful.

We smile at each other, and go back to our school work in silence for a moment. Then Madge sighs quietly.

“I hope I can find someone to love as deeply as you guys do each other.”

We find each other’s gazes, and start giggling together.

It’s nice having a girlfriend that makes me feel like I’m a normal teenager. I secretly hope she falls in love with a wolf. Imprints with them even, because then her partner will love and treasure her forever in the most sincere of ways.

 

* * *

 

I’m running, panting, straining to my last drop of strength, and a panic older than time itself settles in my stomach, clawing up my chest and spilling through my throat.

I’m disoriented, lost and confused. I trip on a root and fall face down on the mossy ground, and then I know I’m finished. This is where it all ends.

I can feel their eyes watching me with relish as I struggle. Their hot breaths leave their mouths in visible rivulets that go up into the air. I hear the low growls and though I can’t see them, I know hot, sticky slobber drips down their fangs, ready to be sunk in my tender flesh.

With horror, I realize my front paws are gone, I’m staring at my puny human hands and arms instead. I move my legs up to my stomach and heave myself onto my two human legs and feet. The hysteria is just forming as the reality sinks in, I’m human, and there’s no way I’ll be able to defend myself from the wolves’ attack once the lunge forward.

I take a stick from the underbrush, thick and sturdy— because I refuse to go down without a fight— just as they step into the clearing.

My pack.

They form a circle around me, cutting off any exit way.

They stare at me hungrily, greedily, and then they bare their humongous teeth at me, preparing to jump me.

I cry out for my father.

“Where are you? Where have you gone?”

But just as everyone draws back to push themselves forward, a big wolf with fur the color of wheat jumps in front of me. He pushes me under his belly, blocking me from the others’ view. On instinct I know he won’t be able to hold them off, not if all of them attack at once.

Suddenly, I’m not under his big, strong body anymore, but in some cage. I’m looking down helplessly as our whole pack tears into a boy with hair stained with blood where it should be blonde and wavy.

His anguished cries reach my ears and then I see how his leg gets pulled cleanly off his body by rabid wolves. His sky blue eyes find me, piercing the darkness, my mate, his lips form my name and then his face gets eaten savagely.

My head is about to explode with my own screams while I try to rattle my way out of the cage that keeps shrinking around me, threatening to crush me to death.

If he goes, I want to go with him.

“Wake up!” My father orders, shaking me awake with so much force I’ll surely have bruises on my shoulders later on.

I come to, sobbing and heaving for air, scared to death and shaking like a leaf. Like a terrified wild thing, I try to fight my father off scratching, biting and kicking. He has to forcefully hold me down, ensuring yet more bruising on my arms and sternum.

“Calm. Down!” He growls loudly. “It’s just me. It’s just me and Mom, and Prim. Stop trashing. You’re gonna hurt yourself!” He grunts, crossing my hands over my stomach and pressing them down with his full body weight so my nails can’t get to him anymore.

It takes a few more minutes before the adrenaline rushing through me clears off, and I’m left exhausted and groggy.

I can finally see that I’m home, in my bedroom, on the floor— I must’ve fallen out of bed at some point— My mother and Prim are huddled together to one side; Prim’s head is tucked under my mother’s chin while her arms surround my sister’s slim shoulders protectively. Prim seems to be crying. Mom just looks concerned, and my father has scratches everywhere, but his face is stony and unyielding.

“I’m gonna let go, Katniss, but you need to stay calm, alright?” He says flatly.

I nod tiredly. I can feel the tear streaks crisscrossing my face drying on my skin already. Father let’s go of me slowly, and then offers a hand to help me up when I make no move to sit. A new wave of tears fall down my cheeks, but this ones are just from the stress melting away.

“Are you okay?” Father asks. I nod, unable to form words just yet. “Alright, sweetie…” he takes a deep breath, “What happened? What did you see?” His voice is soft, soothing and compelling.

I look away from my family, not really wanting to say anything in front of my little sister, but I guess she was woken by my blood curdling screams. She has to have an idea of what scared me so much, so I blurt out the explanation bitterly.

“They tore him up to shreds. Piece by piece. He put me away somewhere they couldn’t reach me, he knew they would’ve done even worse things to me. I saw how they pulled his limbs apart and drain his body of blood and life.”

I swallow painfully. My throat is irritated by all the screaming and all this talking is aggravating the pain.

“I called you!” I finally accused staring at my father. “I called you, and begged you to save me, to help him… you didn’t come! You left us there to fend off a pack of lustful, hungry wolves! How could you?!”

Without even thinking about it, I lunge forward and punch my father on the chest.

I stop, staring at him with wide eyes, struck by my actions, but then an all consuming fury takes over me, and I’m back throwing punch after punch after punch with clench fists and blinding rage. I wail in anger and hurt, feeling betrayed by my father.

“You’d let them rape me and kill him! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I ha—“

I suddenly find myself crushed against my father’s chest. He’s sniffling over my hair. One of his hands cradles the back of my head, while his other arm is wrapped around my shaking body like a vice.

“I won’t let them do that!” He chokes out. “Not ever, Katniss. You’re my daughter, and I’m sorry if you feel that I’ve failed you, but I will never let anyone harm you, or Peeta. You’re my children. I love you both, and I’ll make sure you’re both safe.”

I manage to shift my face to the side, and I speak lowly. “I need to get out of this district. He needs to get of this district. We have to run away.”

My father rubs my back soothingly. “That’s not feasible, Katniss. You’re talking about wolves. If they want to find you, they’d track you down easily. No. We have to face the challenge head on, and prove to them that you two belong together. Otherwise, they’ll never let you be.”

“Daddy… what if they kill him?” I ask pitifully.

“Baby, Peeta is the strongest wolf in the pack. He may be mild tempered and afable boy during the day, but I’m sure he’d be terrifying as a lupine once his territory gets threaten. Don’t you worry one bit, sweetie. Your mate will stake his claim, and the rest of the pack will get their tails handed to them!”

My father sounds so sure, and he smiles down at me with so much confidence. I have no other option but to believe him.

Peeta will defend me at all costs, of that, I have no doubt. I breathe deeply and nod, accepting my father’s assurances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you noticed in the last chapter how Katniss is lighthearted and generally open minded... there’s a reason for that: her daddy is alive in this fic, and they have a pretty sweet relationship with both her parents. Without the heartbreak of the loss of her father, the Everdeens just have a happy home together, hence the happy Katniss.
> 
> We will go back to the wolves in the next chapter. Stay tune!


	3. Nightmares and Day Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out to Savvylark, who took time to read this through and make it near and readable for everyone else! Thank you dear, you rock!
> 
> Beautiful art, belongs to Everlarkingjoshifer, who makes the cutests banners! Thank you, thank you!!!
> 
> So, we will see just a few real wolf traits in this chapter, nothing major. Hope you guys like it. Info on wolves in the footnote!

 

When I was 14, the District humans managed to convince the council of elders that bee farming was an industry that would bring notoriety to Twelve.

Honey bees were becoming extinct, and honey was a very expensive commodity. The grown ups figured we could sell it to the Capitol, improving our status in Panem from a backwards outlining district, to a double industry one, something still unheard of to this day.

The pack was in charge of locating and relocating beehives. We were supposed to find them during our “explorations of the district borders”— as they officially refer to our hunts— and bring them into the district, so a group of ‘farmers’ would move the bees into boxes in the space that formerly comprised Victor’s Village, that now laid wasted after almost 30 years of disuse.

Personally, I thought the whole thing was ill advise and generally a moronic idea; the Capitol had never in the history of Panem paid fairly for anything they got from the districts. Unfortunately nobody asked for my opinion, so I just grumbled about it to Peeta behind everybody’s backs.

On the second night of the full moon cycle, Peeta’s brother, Brandon— Bran, for short— was tasked with letting a young Rover shadow him as he hunted for bees. The night was almost to a close, just before they stepped under a sweetgum tree the youngling swore he could hear buzzing. The bee hunters were supposed to have a bundle of burning sticks and leaves, the smoke was used to calm the bees down. This changed when some genius on the other side of the district fence complained about the light attracting attention, so they discarded the idea.

We should’ve known. Bran should’ve known, since he’s a Scout and everything; but instead of a nice big honey hive, the youngling found a swarm of angry tracker jackers defending their nest.

Now, a Protector’s instinct is fight first, assess your opponent later, which again, I believe it’s a humongous flaw in our design, but that’s besides the point. Although there are very few creatures in the wild that can harm a lycanthrope, Capitol muttations are in fact, at the very top of the list of creatures that can maime and even kill one of us on the spot.

Peeta, being the dutiful Protector he is, jumped in front of his brother and his brother's shadow to shield them from the attack. Bran had to pull the Rover away, since the kid just rolled into a tight ball under Peeta’s belly and whined.

Now, the reason I was ticked off by Peeta’s reaction, is that tracker jackers ‘ _track_ ’ you no matter where you go, until you’re incapacitated or even dead. It doesn’t matter if you’re human or lupine, once the jackers are on you, you won’t shake them off; in fact, one thing you can be sure of after becoming the target of a tracker jacker, is that you’ll be sore.

I saw the swarm descend like a cloud on my mate, while the doofus growled, howled, and finally resorted to try and eat the bugs. This being a Council of Elders sanction enterprise, a bunch of other wolves came forth to take control of a situation they couldn’t control at all.

My father leapt straight against Peeta, knocking him sideways while someone else barked an order to run to the lake half a mile away from our location. The result was a stampede of paws and hulking lupines, that more closely resembled a brood of headless chickens.

There’s nothing more undignified than the fear induced chaos a swarm of tracker jackers will bring to a pack of wolves hunting for honey bees. The irony is just too much!

My father and Peeta were on the sidelines, looking on frantically until they saw me, hoping on my front legs trying to see if they were okay. Both of them growled and bared their teeth at me, commanding me, ‘Get out of here!’

When I didn’t move and just sat there dazed and scared, Peeta grew aggravated. He managed to make his way to me and headbutted me on the side, shoving me forward. I didn’t snapped completely out of it until the first jab, at that I jumped in awareness. I endured three stings in all. Father sustained a handful too, but Peeta had taken the brunt of the attack until my father popped him out of the way.

I will never understand how those stingers could pierce through thick fur and tough skin, but they did. Although we didn’t suffered the terrifying hallucinations and cold shivers humans spoke of after being stung by the mutts, we did have swelling and tenderness at the spot for days.

The jackers finally dispersed. Most of the pack were able to reach either the fence or the nearest lake with minimal injury. We were finally safe, but the subsequent daily nightmares about zooming mutts, were murder for me, and those had just begun.

In my dreams, I was usually running and the jackers where gaining on me. Two wolves materialized from thin air and shoved me away, biting at my heels so I wouldn’t stop to look at them. I watched them being overtaken and swarmed by the hideous beasts. First my father, then Peeta. I would start screaming for them to run while painful pustules popped out oozing pus all over my skin, exploding before my eyes until I couldn’t see anything.

Now, there’s a good reason I’m recalling this particularly nasty memory: Peeta could sense every time I was in distress and somehow crawled his way from the bakery on the other side of town, to my house in the Seam, while avoiding detection by the patrolling peacekeepers.

More often than not, my father would find him shivering on our front porch, barefooted and dressed only on his sweat-dampened night clothes. At first, my father struggled with indecision on what was best. He could either send Peeta back home, risking a flogging for breaking curfew, or he could make my mate a bed on our threadbare sofa and escort him back home in the morning, before his shift in the mines started and the baker would missed his son back home.

Some things have changed since, while others remain the same; for instance, Peeta still miraculously crosses the district without being spotted on nights when my nightmares are at their worse, but now he has a cot next to Prim’s and my bed. My father doesn’t walk Peeta back to the bakery anymore, now they walk out together in the morning and part ways where the road splits, either in the direction of town, the mines, or the dilapidated school building. Also, my mother insisted Peeta kept a clean change of clothes here, just in case, so now he has a set, neatly folded into one of my drawers.

On a particularly bad night, I woke up several times crying and screaming. It seemed then that there was no relief in waking either, unless Peeta’s arms held me tightly against him, calming me down. Mother allowed him to climb in bed with me, while Prim took the cot. We were firmly told, “This is an exception!” Clearly everyone was feeling haggard and exhausted and they just wanted to go back to bed.

At first, I was a little aggravated at Peeta’s nonchalance about it all: our situation, my nightmares, the constant dread I felt. I couldn’t understand how the impending threat of the challenge didn’t seem to fazed him. I took it as overconfidence and obnoxious cockiness on his part, but I should’ve known better, after all, his deflective nonchalance was the first thing I noticed when we met for the first time, right before we imprinted. Younger Peeta admitted he knew who I was and acted as if it was no big deal at all, but later confessed that he had harbored a crush on me since lower school, he just didn’t want to give away how monumental the moment he talked to me for the first time felt to him for fear of rejection or mockery.

I had seen this same reactions in hurt and sick animals. A dog could be at death’s doorstep, and you’ll never know it by their behavior. They’ll act animated and unaffected as a defense mechanism, to throw predators and owners off, misdirecting worries elsewhere or fending off stronger predators.

My beautiful, clever mate was suffering in silence, right in front of my eyes, pretending he wasn’t scared or troubled by that stupid challenge. I just was too caught up in my own fears to see all the anxiety and stress my Peeta was going through secretly. Until his brother Wheaton, of all people— albeit unwittingly— made me see it for what it truly was: a diversion.

“Hey, Katniss!” Wheaton greets me jovially from inside the bakery kitchen, where he’s tending the ovens. “Looking for father or Peet?” He asks, turning away from me to pull a tray of rolls out of one oven.

“Both?” My voice tilts at the end. “I have a couple of squirrels for your father, but I will never turn down a chance to see my better half.” I smile at the older Mellark son.

Wheaton chuckles. “I’m gonna have to disagree with that ‘better half’ endearment.” He informs me smirking, “You look way better than him anyday, and that’s even before he lost all that weight.”

I frown. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, he’s been all jittery lately. Skipping meals and losing track of time. If he himself hadn’t said his spacing out was due to the end of year testing and the rapidly approaching wrestling championship, I would say he was worried about losing you or something.” He chuckles full of mirth again, as if he’s just said this cleverly hilarious joke, when in reality, he’s dead right.

“Oh,” I give him and embarrassed giggle, partly because that was my own defense mechanism at the moment and because clearly Peeta’s family were oblivious to our plight. It’s not my place to set Wheaton straight. I won’t take away Peeta’s choice or betray his trust.

After a moment of pleasantries with Wheaton, and then a trade is made with their father, Peeta is called from the front so I can say hi before leaving the bakery.

The smile that splits his face in two is only marred by the slight bags forming under his eyes. I had selfishly chalked up his exhaustion to being awake consoling me from my nightmares, when the plausibility that he has been braving his own night terrors alone makes my chest hurt.

Since that first time we made out uncontrollably in front of my parents right after imprinting, we had never embrace publicly… until now. As soon as he’s within my arms’ reach, I sling myself on him and kiss him smack in the mouth, hungrily, greedily.

“I love you so much!” I tell him as soon as I let up.

He’s still dazed, not having really been able to respond to my kiss before I ended it. “Likewise.” He breathes out dreamily.

“Umm… guys? Should I step outside or something?” The amused, shocked voice of Wheaton cuts through us. “Wow… I’m sweating here, and it isn’t ‘cause the ovens.”

“Shut up, Wheat!” Peeta shoots his brother a glare, “Come on!” He practically growls, pulling me outside through the back door.

“I’m sorry, I was —“

I don’t finish my sentence, he whirls me around, then suddenly my back is pressed against the scraggly apple tree behind the bakery. His hands are everywhere while his mouth swallows all the little moans and whimpers the intensity of our actions elicit from me. It’s almost as if all of our angst and frustrations melt away as our lips pull and push at each other. Teeth and tongues come out to join the fray. My fingers run through his too long waves, and his hands finally settled on my hips. I’m not sure how long we kiss for. A minute? Ten hours? It doesn’t matter, what matters is that when we finally separate we’re smiling goofily at one another.

“I love you, Katniss. So much.” He whispers sweetly.

“I love you too, so much!”

“If you’re done fornicating in front of the pigs like animals, then it’s time for everyone to go back to their chores!” Mrs. Mellark’s voice is worse than a bucket of icy cold water dumped on us. She sucks away all the relief and lightness we had just found on each other’s arms.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d act this way, being what you are.” She sneers when our arms fall from each other.

It’s all I can do not to fly at her throat and squeeze.

Everyone in the district is weary of Peeta’s witch of a mother, but she saves the worst of her hateful words for her youngest son. He’s not only a werewolf— which she considers a shameful illness— but he’s ‘ _engaged_ ’ to a Seam brat, which is even worse than suffering lycanthropy.

She hates me. That much has always been plain as day, but why she hates her children so much? Is incomprehensible to me! They didn’t ask for the condition, it was handed down to them possibly even by Mrs. Mellark herself. Her sister, Ms. Rooba, the district butcher, is one of us. An elder; Mr. Mellark on the other hand doesn’t have a direct relative with a manifested lupine gene.

“Mother, please don’t speak like that to my girlfriend.” Peeta says tiredly. It’s a step up from the meekness that used to permeate his voice when he was younger, a time when she’d cuffed him on the side of the head for every little thing she found wrong with him.

“She wasn't always this way.” Peeta told me once, but never having been treated so awful by my folks. I couldn’t fathom any parent being like that to their child.

Mrs. Mellark scoffs, “My house. I’ll talk however I want to anyone!” She goes inside mercifully leaving us be.

Peeta’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Katniss. I promise she won’t be this horrible forever. She’s bound to change at some point.”

“I don’t care.” I tell him honestly. Then I wrap my arms around his neck and look deep into his eyes, “As long as you are nice to me, I don’t care what your mother says or thinks. I love _you_. And _only_ you.” I kiss him softly, just a sweet press of my lips on his, then pull back. “Come to my place for supper?”

He smiles, his shoulders lift just a fraction, “I’ll see you later then.” He’s back inside the bakery in three strides.

I vow to make things easier for Peeta, fuss and fan over him more, be extra attentive from now on. Show him he’s my whole world and all I see, so he never doubts I’m with him for more reasons than just cosmic pull. He’s special to me for who he is. I’ll be damned if I don’t show him I need him everyday until this stupid challenge is over with!

 

* * *

 

Another season passes before anything of consequence happenes.

Peeta turned 17 this Fall, and the pressing stress of the challenge hanging over our heads finally made his cautiously calculated facade crack at the edges. With every full moon, my mate gets a little twitchier, a tad snappier.

One night, during the first flurry of the season as we entered winter, my hunting party was getting ready to break from the general gathering. An older wolf, graying with age, dared come too close to me and as wolves do in nature, he sniffed my tail area.

I turned swiftly around to snap a ferocious bite at his muzzle, but I was completely shocked to see a flash of teeth and golden fur rush before my eyes. Materializing before me a big, hulking wolf with his large front paws pinning the older wolfe's neck and torso to the ground while snarling and shaking his head violently with a generous bite of hide between his piercing fangs. The growls coming from Peeta were scary. Real scary.

A few wolves came to break the ‘fight’ but, Peeta only let go of the mouthful of his opponent to snap and growl lowly at the intervening ones, the whole time holding down the offending wolf against the frozen ground under his full body weight. It was a tense few minutes until he was dissuaded by his brother, Bran, to let go.

Meanwhile, I was a ball of frayed nerves running and hopping in wide circles around my mate. The rest of the night was a total fiasco. The whole pack was tense after the earlier events, looking at us wearily every so often. Peeta didn’t step away from me the rest of the night, making it difficult to catch as much as a measly forest mouse.

In the morning, when the effect of the moon had passed, and we were back to human form, Peeta backed me against a tree. He kissed me roughly and long in front of anyone who would see. It was a bit embarrassing, especially when I caught sight of my father shaking his head sadly as he walked away. I couldn’t blame Peeta though. I am his and he is mine. Anything else is just unthinkable.

“Your first estrus is near.” Says old woman Ripper, head of the Nannies, while I’m trading at the hob some jerky my father had made a few days early.

I look up at her sharp, knowledgeable eyes. “You heard?” I more state than ask.

She nods solemnly, wrapping a bottle of her homemade moonshine my mother uses to make cough syrups. “Course I heard, it’s all anyone is gossiping about.” She makes a face. “Sadly, I can’t tell you it’ll go away soon, or that the worst is over. On the contrary, your boy is gonna become more aggressive and possessive of you, and that’s normal. But you’ll also get more unwanted attention by the idiots that think they can take on your boy. Whatever whooping he gives them though… they deserve it!” She winks at me full of mirth, and I can’t help but to smile back.

“Just be safe out there, will ya? It’s not unheard of, girls getting harassed by men even in the day time during their first heat, especially the ones that have been hyped on about such as yourself.” She sighs, “I’m sure happy I’m not in your old daddy’s shoes right now. That man has done everything in his power to protect you all, and most people wouldn't dare cross him out of respect, but your boy is still so green, and he needs to show everyone he ain’t one to be antagozing. Your poor old daddy’s hands are tied in that regard. But don’t you fret for a minute, darlin’, things will work out once Peeta puts the fear of the wolf in them! You Mark my words!” 

I leave Reaper feeling lighter. The more I think about it, the more I find it hard to believe anyone would approach me during day time in the same way that wolf did the previous night. I mean, I’m still one of the very few people that can shoot a bow in the whole district. For the most part, people don’t bother people who can wield and use weapons with ease, plus Reaper is right about people respecting my father.

I’m partially right. Everyone leaves me alone the rest of the moon cycle at daytime; but during full moon nights, a small group of males hover around me at a respectable distance. I get a solid perimeter of guards such as my father, Haymitch and Bran, just to make sure Peeta stays relaxed and let’s me do my job. Although, I’m only alright at hunting the next two nights, being hindered by all the attention I’m getting, plus the way Peeta just simply exudes hostility around the others.

I keep telling myself “I’m alright, we’re alright, this will be over soon” but the truth is, nobody is alright.

 

* * *

 

Peeta’s at my side any waking moment of the day he can spare from his duties at school and at the bakery. The purple bags under his eyes look like angry bruises so my mother takes to apply lavender and honey pastes on the tender skin of his face. He’s lost at least 15 pounds since the last full moon, which doesn’t sit well with any of us, so my concerned father and sister sit at the dinner table with Peeta, and don’t let him get up until he’s finished every last bite of our meager suppers. Lately he can only sleep well when his arms are around me, so my father comes to the bakery and tells Mr. Mellark that Peeta will be staying with us at night for a while. Until this ‘right of passage’ for our kind is over with and Peeta can relax.

Mrs. Mellark narrows her eyes, a mean spark flashing through the icy blue of her irises. She demands I take herbs to prevent pregnancies regardless of my father’s offended stance, I’m sure she said it on purpose. We know for a fact PEeta and I won’t be doing anything as much as snore in a room with Prim sleeping next to us and my folks only a flimsy curtain away, I agree to bring the herbs to the bakery nonetheless, because Peeta’s well-being is more important than any slight I can get from such that bitter woman.

The witch brews my tea herself, and watches me drink it every evening before Peeta’s allowed to leave for the night. My maidenhead stays intact, but Peeta sleeps soundly for the next three weeks, and then the next full moon starts anew. This time, things come to a head.

Two days before the first day of the cycle, Gale and I fill our bags with the last greens of the season. Winter will be here sooner rather than later, and everything is already dying out from the frigid temperatures. This year is shaping up to be a bitterly cold one.

I've picked the last bundle of dandelion stems from the two neatly portioned piles we made after divvying up our loot. I straighten up, stretching my sore muscles as I go, dreaming of going home to my sister and her ugly cat, Buttercup. I had the unpleasant task of deworming the beast a few months ago, and he hates me, but when Prim and I sit on the couch together and just talk, Buttercup jumps between us and finds a spot to fall asleep on. I hate to admit it, but the bag of fleas is warm and comforting when he’s purring asleep.

“Alright,” I say shouldering my game bag, “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days… or nights, whichever comes firs—“

Out of nowhere, Gale traps my face in his calloused, rough hands, and kisses me square in the mouth. For a moment I’m paralyzed. I quickly snap out of the stunned reaction, my palms press onto his chest to push him off to no avail. My hands curl into tight fists on his chest before I resort to hit him repeatedly anywhere I can reach, and then my knee connects with his inner thigh; I was aiming for his family jewels. It must’ve driven the message in, because he tears his mouth from mine rather violently, breathing raggedly.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” I shriek in disbelief and anger.

“I had to try that,” He says not even sounding one smidge apologetic, “at least once.”

“Peeta’s gonna shred you to pieces!” I screech in indignation.

“Well, he’ll have to try that in duel! In fact, I can’t wait to fight his sorry ass!” He responds in equal fashion, his words dripping anger and jealousy.

“It was you!” I accuse lowly. I feel a pang of betrayal shoot through me. “You are the one challenging my impending match! You jackass!” I fly at him and slap him in the face, hard. “How dare you? How could you? You have no idea what you’ve done!”

My hand is pulsing in pain as I bring it up for another one, but Gale grabs my wrist easily and shoves me back.

“As if it was just me!” He yells. “The council says there’s to be a fair fight, and there will be a fair fight for you!”

“The council was fine until you went and moaned about it! You selfish bastard!” I scream at him.

He laughs derisively in my face. “You know what? Ask your old man how fine the council was with that wretch Cray breathing down their necks about you and loverboy! For all the might the pack wants to believe we have, when it comes to the Capitol lackeys running this district, we’re still as docile as sheep! There will be a fight, Catnip, and things will be balanced then!”

He starts walking back towards the district, while I scream and rage, throwing rocks and sticks at him as he walks away. “We’re done, Gale! You hear me? Done!”

It takes me a few hours to return home that evening. I skip my trades and simply sit on a treetop for as long as I dare, before my family misses me. I’m so confused by Gale’s words, my doubt of my own father’s loyalty to me and Peeta. What does Cray care about two teenagers’ engagement; the man is unsavory, with a infamous reputation of sexual corruption and exploitation, but that’s still doesn’t explain his interest in a pair of ‘ill’ kids in love. Then last, but worst of all, shame for letting Gale’s lips touch mine, which belong to Peeta fully. That shame settles in my bones until I have to drag my frame to my house, and then I collapse on the couch holding back tears.

‘ _How could’ve I let this happen?’_ the question rolls in my head over and over, accusing and unforgiving. Then panic grasps me. I can’t let Peeta know Gale kissed me! He’ll be furious with me for being weak and distracted. He’ll be angry I cheated on him, and he’d be right to be. It’s my fault!

“Katniss?” My sister’s voice breaks through the molasses in my mind, and reaches me like nothing else could have done at this time.

I look up at her, she’s peering at me with concern, and I can’t hold back anymore. I start sobbing and babbling, telling her every last sordid detail of what happened in the woods as she holds me to her. I shouldn’t be burdening my little sister with all this craziness, but who else do I have?

Prim hugs me tightly, “Shush, Katniss… it’ll be alright. Peeta won’t be mad at you. He won’t blame you. I can’t say Gale’s face will remain handsome after an encounter with Peeta, but he has it coming!” She assures me firmly.

I look up at her, and smile. “You think so?”

“I know so!” She says combing my hair behind my ears. “But you do have to tell him. You know what mama says: _the secret to a happy family, is always telling the truth._ ”

“When did you get so smart, little duck?” I ask her pulling on one of her twin braids, before sitting up.

I know what I have to do, so I square my shoulders, and take off to the bakery after kissing my sister’s head.

 

* * *

  

Once I've confessed to Peeta what transpired between me and Gale in the afternoon, he stays eerily quiet, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Did you like it?” He asks me flatly.

“What?” I ask feeling my stomach knotting in fear.

“The kiss.” He says in a gravelly voice.

I shake my head, my eyes diving to the ground. “I didn’t want to kiss him, and I definitely did not enjoy it one bit.”

He nods quietly, slowly. “And he said he’s gonna fight me in duel?”

I’ve never been this scared in my life. This quiet, measured boy in front of me, is so disturbingly calm, that I know the rage inside of him will come out with the fury of a Capitol mutt. He’ll destroy and maim when the time comes, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Yeah.” I respond listlessly.

“I will settle that score then. But if he as much as looks at you outside the challenge, I’ll teach him to respect you. To respect me. For now, this issue is done and buried, Katniss. Do not think of it anymore. You did nothing wrong, and you did all you could in a bad situation. I’m just glad it was a kiss and nothing more, or he’d be dead in the next hour. Come on now. The sun is going down. Let’s get you home.”

That night, I wake up from a deep sleep with very intense cramping in my abdominal area. It started off a dull and steady ache, and suddenly it was like shoots of sharp pain localized in my lower belly that would’ve had me double over at the waist if it wasn’t for Peeta’s thick, heavy arm thrown across my middle.

My legs curl up as close to my chest as they can with Peeta’s obstructing arm in the way. I feel as if my guts are being pulled down and out of my body through my privates, but as soon and intense as the pain came, I reach a breaking point when something rushes out of me. It feels almost like it does when I relieve my bladder, but there is no wet pool under my body confirming it. All I know is that the pain is virtually gone, and a sluggish tiredness takes over me pulling me into a dreamless sleep.

The second time I wake up, is to Peeta’s very low grunts into the ear he’s nuzzling, licking and nipping at. I become suddenly aware of my surroundings, and most of all, Peeta. His scent, his body heat, the way his fingers dig into my hips while his breath comes hot and ragged behind me. And then, I feel HIM, hard and insistent, rutting slowly against my bottom.

I make an involuntary noise at the back of my throat. And then his arms curl tightly around me, pressing every inch of our bodies impossibly close.

“Shush, Kitten,” He purrs into my ear quietly.

He’s never, in all the time we’ve been together called me that before, but the pitch in his voice, dark and low added to the new endearment, causes my stomach to swoop and a hollow ache between my legs to flare up.

“I’m fighting with all my might to stay under control here, but if you start making sounds… Well, imma have to get out of this bed before I end up doing something that’ll disrespect your parents and innocent little Prim. I really don’t wanna disrespect the people that has treated me like I actually matter because of my stupid hormones.” He sighs raggedly. “I love them too much. I love _you_ too much.”

I nod, and lay still in his arms, letting his fingers trail under my shirt to squeeze my breast into his hand lightly; that’s all the liberties he allows himself with my body before he places a sweet kiss on the nape of my neck and pulls away from me slowly. He sits up on the bed and starts working his shoelaces.

“Are you leaving?” I ask him in a quivering voice.

“Yeah.” He answers in a harsh breath. “It’s better if I stay away from you right now. You smell too tempting.” Then in a firm voice he’s never use on me before he tells me, “You are to stay home until the moon calls us to the woods. I’ll see you then.” He stands up and leans over me to kiss my forehead.

“That’s two days away.” I whine quietly, knowing that means he’s not coming tonight, and I’ll most likely will have to battle the nightmares alone.

“It’s only _one_ night away.” He corrects me gently, caressing my cheek lovingly. “We can manage, Sweetheart. We’re not mindless beasts, remember?” He smiles at me, recalling my father’s go-to expression. He kisses my lips sweetly and is gone in a minute.

After the soft sound of the door closing after him reaches our sleeping quarters, I hear my father release a deep, relieved breath. I hear the springs of his old mattress groan under his weight as he shifts and then he too is out of bed.

I feel a scowl form on my face. ‘ _Has he been awake this whole time? How much of that was he privy to?_ ’ With the questions burning in my mind, I force myself out of bed as well.

He’s sitting on the kitchen table, the very same Peeta was laid on the day we met.

“Daddy!” I demand jutting out my chin, as if he had been a naughty child eavesdropping on his elders, instead of the actual situation we’re in right now.

“Sit down, Katniss.” He orders tiredly, rubbing his forehead that I just now see is lined with worry.

I comply mutely.

“What did you hear?” I ask meekly.

“Enough to know Peeta is as honorable as they get, and worthy of our trust.” He scrubs his face with both hands, and then says something that really weirds me out.

“You’re in heat, duckling.”

When Prim was little, she inherited some of my old clothing. There was this outfit that she loved to wear, despite being a bit big on her frame. A blouse she’d tuck into a matching skirt, yet the shirttail would always come untucked, giving her a duck tail. I took to calling her ‘Little Duck’ after that, and the nickname stuck ‘til this day. Now, there was a time when my father would called me ‘Duckling’ as well, but he hasn’t call me that in years!

I was 7, and this mean kid, Silver Hendrix, the blacksmith’s child, told me I was named after a potato plant. I cried over it, because potatoes are a unattractive brown and lumpy and have strange eyes all over the place not to mention they’re covered in dirt. I didn’t want to be a potato. But my daddy set me straight!

We went into the woods early on Sunday morning, and he took me to his special place out by this enormous lake. There’s a concrete cabin from before the dark days; a single room with a fireplace, a door opening and a couple of windows. He found it when he was very young and had managed to keep it off the path from the pack for years. Until Gale Hawthorne followed our scent there one hunting night and then reported the ‘ _newly found territory_ ’ to the elders. The jerk!

My father taught me to swim in that lake, and then we came across this plants at the edge of the water. Big green arrowhead leaves, long shoot-like stems and three petal white flowers in groupings of three along a long thick stem.

“Ah! You’ve found yourself, Katniss!” He said before a full, hearty laugh bubbled out of his chest. “You’ll never go hungry as long as you can find yourself!” He told me.

At my confused expression, he pointed at the plant and started to explain in the soft tone he reserved for teaching me important things.

“That’s a Sagittaria plant, also known as Arrowhead, Duck Potato and… what else do you think people know this plant by, if I said that you’ve found yourself?” He asked me with a small glint in his eyes, I later associated with fondness and fatherly pride.

“Katniss?” I asked softly. Eyeing the unassuming, yet pretty white blooms.

“Right you are, darling!” He said with a happy chuckle. “Now, why do you think I said you wouldn’t go hungry as long as you found yourself?”

I screwed up my face in thought then. “It’s also called Duck Potato.” I frowned at the realization that Silver Hendrix had been right all along, I was named after potatoes.

He nodded smiling, “Right again, sweetheart. Katniss roots can be eaten and are similar to potatoes. But look.” He said pointing at the plant. “It’s so much more than its name. On the surface it’s just a plant with a pretty flower. But beneath the pretty side that you can see, there’s nurture and life.”

“But, it is a Duck Potato!” I groaned in displeasure.

“Sure, waterfowl feed on it, that doesn’t change the fact that the Katniss is a pretty darn exceptional plant… just like you my little duckling!” He laughed that belly sound that could coax my own smiles despite my grouchiness.

I’m taken back to the present, watching my father’s downturn lips, and wrinkled forehead. He looked so young in my memory. But it was just that, a memory that came, played in my mind’s eye and then dissolved with a bat of my eyelids.

I blink back the weariness. “What do you mean _in heat_? How do you know?” I feel a little defensive for some reason. I’m ready to deny it, though I have no idea myself.

My father grimaces and avoids looking at me straight. “Your scent.” He says quietly turning a little green.

“Gross!” I nearly choke, it’s positively disgusting!

My father seems to agree with my sentiments, since he winces rubbing his forehead. He rushes out, “I’m actually repelled by it!” He practically snaps, “Since we’re related your pheromones have the complete opposite effect on me than they have on Peeta.” He swallows thickly, again looking kinda gray, but he schools his face into something serious. “Or any other male for that matter.” He says gravely.

My eyes grow to saucer size. “W-what?”

“Peeta gave you an order as your mate before he left.” Says my father, ignoring my stuttered complaint. “He told you to stay until the moon calls you out. I don’t know if you’re bound to obey your mate the same way matched pairs are, but I know you’re bound to obey me until you form a home of your own. So, Katniss, you’re to stay in the safety of the house until the full moon.”

“What? Are you serious?!” I protest.

“You know the consequences of disobeying a direct order, Katniss!” He warns.

I deflate on my chair, slouching my shoulders in half defeat. It’s true, everybody knows how powerful a direct order from a parent or a mate is. So wolves only use them measuredly and far in between, often preferring to give suggestions so others would follow out of respect and loyalty. Authority, such as a parent or a significant other within a family is the topmost law for each individual wolf. All families are bound to the laws and guidelines of the pack and the district.

Our code of honor works better than any Peacekeeper policing us around. If we receive a direct order— like the two I’ve gotten so far about the same exact thing— we cannot disobey, unless we want to feel anguished guilt, so severe it’ll leave us weak, physically ill and distressed to the point of incapacity. Nobody ever wants to go through it.

“What about school and bartering duties?” I ask more out of curiosity, fully accepting I’ll be shut inside my house for the next 48 hours at least.

“We’ll have your mother send a note to school.” He sighs. “I’m going to go talk to Peeta before my shift.”

“Wait! Why?” I’m immediately on my feet, anxiously wringing my fingers together.

I don’t want my father near Peeta right now. I know for sure he wants to talk about me being in heat and whatnot, and I can’t have that. It’s too embarrassing.

“Calm down, duckling.” He says using his sweet placating tone, although there’s an edge of aggravation hidden in his slow cadence.

It doesn’t escape me, that he’s called me _Duckling_ for the second time in less than 20 minutes today, so I try to reel myself in, and sit back down.

“What do you need to see Peeta for?” I croak all the same.

He takes a deep breath. “I have to make sure he’s alright. Also, I need to see that he’s getting mentally and physically ready for the full moon.” He fixes me with an serious look, “There’s going to be a confrontation, Katniss. A duel or challenge of sorts. He needs to be in a reasonably acceptable place mentally for it and he’s just 17. Since his parents know nothing about the challenges ahead of him, I feel responsible for his well being. After he wins…”

My father hesitates, looks away from me, then speaks, “We’ll officially be family. You know the customs.” He says diplomatically. “The both of you will be free to go into the wilderness on your own, for the duration of the cycle. It’s his right.”

A cold sweat covers me head to toe. It’s our tradition. When a fight ensues for the right to mate with a female, the winner takes his prize deeper into the woods. No one else is allowed to follow them. They won’t return for a couple of days, and then they’ll be recognized as a ‘matched pair,’ a wolf equivalent to a toasting, which in our district follows a wedding, and nobody feels married without.

I can’t say I recall that many 16 year olds getting matched, but I can see now why this is so awful for my old man. Whoever wins the duel, will have the right to take me away, mate with me, and be my partner for life if I accept the partnership.

A female can refuse the match by leaving the male behind the morning after the duel. They would still mate in wolf form per the winner’s right, but if the female doesn’t stay long enough to ensure an union, the male loses all mating rights over the female for good. This practice, although more common than anyone likes to admit, it’s not the norm.

I really don’t see the point. If a male takes you to the wilderness, he’s gonna mate with you. It’s a barbaric tradition in my opinion. A male wins the right to mate with a female just by acting brutish. The female just decides if she wants to stay with the winner or remain  unmatched until her next heat, when the whole process repeats unless she chooses a male beforehand.

I just can’t see myself accepting that convoluted, disrespectful and oppressive fate. I _have_ a mate! I want _my_ mate! _I choose him_! If I’m going to mate with anyone it’ll be Peeta. No one else!

“To hell with the pack’s traditions!” I blurt out in self righteous exasperation. “What if Peeta and I don’t want to become a matched pair right away?”

My father smiles wryly. “Duckling, I’d be the first one to support you either way. I wouldn’t mind keeping my little girl home just a bit longer.” He sighs, eyes misting. “Time has taken flight, duckling. Dragging you away with it. You grew up too fast; faster than my brain and heart can adjust to the image feeding my eyes.” He takes a hold of my hand on the table top. “I’m proud of the young woman you turned out to be, Katniss. It’s been an honor to guide you so far and teach you everything I know—“

“Daddy!” I jump out of my chair and run to curl up in his lap. He turns his nose away wrinkling it for good measure, but his arms wrap securely around me, and he holds me like he did when I was a kid. “I’ll always be your little girl. No matter what happens tomorrow night, I’ll never stop being your little girl.”

”I know, duckling. I know I haven’t lost you. I’ve won a good young man for a son, and that my dear, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for my little girls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wolf Behaviors and Traits:** In the wild only the Alpha pair (male and female) breed. The alpha female goes in heat twice a year, and depending on the environmental conditions (food and territory availability, predators or competition) male and female alphas would separate from the rest of the pack to mate and procreate. If conditions allow it, maybe a secondary pair will mate and breed. 
> 
> All males, including pups react when the alpha female is in heat. She’ll only mate with the alpha male, unless he dies and a New wolf replaces him, which both debunks and confirms the theory that wolves have only one mate for life. At the very least, they remain monogamous while both alphas are still healthy.
> 
>  **Estrous:** another word for the recurring period of sexual receptivity and fertility in many female mammals: heat.
> 
> Honey bees are endangered. Protect them. Respect them. Treat them like you care.


	4. The Challenge, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my awesome Beta, Savvylark! She’s great and insightful. You should read her own stuff, because her stories are fun and fresh!
> 
> Shout out to Everlarkingjoshifer for the pretty banner! Always love to see it! You rock!
> 
> Beware: this chapter has been split into two, and will end in a cliffhanger... I hope to post the continuation in the next couple of days, so you don’t have to fret over it. 
> 
> Hope everyone is enjoying the last days of summer vacation.

I haven’t slept a wink in three nights.

I cat nap a lot during the day, but my eyes won’t stay shut once it's dark out. My brain won’t shut up either. During the day I spend my time in a lethargic trance where my arms and legs feel too heavy and the back of my skull throbs.

Staying cooped up at home these last couple of days has been hardest on my mother and sister. I guess my moodiness makes it hard to be around me, so they jump at the tiniest chance to get out, even if it’s just to feed the goat or tend to my mother’s medicinal garden.

My father can’t stand my scent, so he avoids the house as much as he can as well. He comes in and drops off whatever game he’s hunted, so I do a lot of game cleaning and organizing in parcels. Our customers haven’t been as thrilled to pay extra for the clean game then right now.

Things at the Everdeen home have been so tense lately. We’re all anxiously counting down to sunset, which is projected to start at 5:33 this afternoon. That will give us little over 45 minutes all together to have our last meal as a family of four.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll either stay in the woods with my mate and… _mate_ with him.

Or come back home an ostracized murderer; because I’ve decided I’m gonna shoot an arrow through the eye of any male that dares hurt my imprinted mate.

I don’t care if I break the pack’s traditions. I’ve decided I’m not losing my virginity— wolf or human— to anybody other than Peeta!

For all the challengers’ safety and well-being, I hope they lose the fight. The alternative will be to lose their malehood, by my own teeth and claws.

I’m so set upon this decision, that I’ve gone as far as writing a two page statement to The Council about it. Madge and Thom delivered it for me. I made it very clear that I am not backing down. I’m not accommodating anyone and let them rape me; because that’s exactly what I will consider any male advances in the unlikely case that Peeta is defeated.

I received many personal notes from different elders, mostly angry ones, some supportive, but nothing officially acknowledging my position. It’s alright. I don’t care. I’m tired of letting The Pack intimidate me.

There’s a knock on the door that shakes me up from my half-asleep ruminations.

“Katniss, are you home? Open up, its Bran.”

I wrinkle my nose, wondering what Peeta’s brother is doing here?

Two hours before sunset to boot!

“Just a minute!” I call back as I approach the door.

“Hey!” Bran smiles as soon as I crack open the door.

“Hey.” I respond in a rough voice from disuse. “What are you doing here? I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to be here either. Peeta actually sent Wheat—“ Brandon stops abruptly, and shuts his eyes tightly, before twisting his neck from side to side.

After a second, his nose wrinkles. “But. Umm. Wheat saw Fern Gladstone, uh, alone at the flower shop… and decided to pay her a visit.” He sounds pained. “I think I’m gonna _kill_ him when I get back home! And you will never tell Peeta I was ever here.” Bran says through gritted teeth, eyes fixated on the worn welcome mat he’s standing on.

“Uh, this is for you, from Peet.” Brandon rushes out shoving a bundle forward. “I’m gonna go now, before I say something I’ll be embarrassed about tomorrow, when you’re officially my sister-in-law. Your scent shouldn’t affect me then.”

I’m glad I have fast reflexes, otherwise the bundle would’ve hit the floor right outside the door when Bran tore out running. I caught the package mere inches from the floor of my house porch.

I peer onto the road, and see Peeta’s brother running full throttle. I wouldn't wanna be in Wheaton’s shoes right now. Bran is gonna tear him a new one for putting him in a position where he was attracted to me, even if it was just an instinctual reaction to pheromones. Bran and Peeta are just too loyal to one another for this to be alright.

I close the door, wondering how I would feel if this was Prim and me. I’d be sick to my stomach if Prim had a sweetheart and suddenly I’d started having romantic or sexual thoughts about the guy because of brain chemistry. I shudder in disgust.

I feel sorry for Bran.

I climb on my bed and sit in the middle of my mattress, legs criss-crossed. The paper bag Peeta sent cradled in the hollow of my bent legs. I open it slowly, and smile when I see two cheese buns, an apple and goat cheese tart and a square of paper carefully folded.

It reads: “ _See you soon!_ ” scribbled in my mate’s chicken-scratch penmanship.

My stomach swoops at the thought of tonight.

I don’t allow myself to even think of the duel. My mind goes straight to the things that will happen when Peeta takes me deep into the wilderness, and we’re finally alone. He’ll claim me for his own then. I can’t stop blushing with the mere thought.

On that note, I stuff the first cheese bun into my mouth, almost choking on the too big piece I tried to swallow without chewing. My eyes water. I start laughing at myself.

“Calm down, Katniss!” I tell myself. “It’ll all be okay.”

We just have to work a bit for it. That’s all.

 

* * *

 

My mother makes me a bath with water she boiled on the stove, poured into the washing bin with clean water from the spigot outside.

I’ve heard that the Capitol have luxurious showers. Some say they feel like standing in warm rain.

When Prim and I were little, our father used to fill a watering can with the warm bath water, and sprinkle it over us in the washing bin. We’d giggle and hop under the spray, singing silly songs about spiders going up water spouts. Father would say something along the lines of, “I water my girls and they grow like weeds.”

Suddenly, I feel like crying. I won’t be my Daddy’s little girl anymore after tonight.

“What’s the matter, Katniss?” Asks my mother peering up at me after dropping a handful of dry lavender sprigs into the bin to seep in my bath water.

“Do I have to move in with the Mellarks after tonight?”

I really wasn’t planning on blurting that question out, but the uncertainty growing in my chest pushed it onto my tongue without my permission.

My mother wipes her hands on her skirt, and stands up from where she was crouching. She gives me a fond look and speaks in a soothing tone.

“Katniss, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. Peeta is still too young to apply for housing. Neither of you are old enough to officially marry.” She frowns at that last sentence, but soldiers on nonetheless. “You two still have time to decide on an arrangement that suits you both. Peeta’s smart. He’ll come up with something. Don’t you worry about it one bit.”

She helps me into the bath, and I don’t turn her down when she offers to help washing my hair.

Something else comes to my mind then.

“Mama, what was it like? Leaving the apothecary? Town. Your family?”

She takes a moment to answer.

“It was an adjustment at first.” She says diplomatically. “I had never been away from home before, let alone frequented the Seam. If it hadn’t been for how much I wanted to be with your daddy, I wouldn’t have lasted a week here. But love covers many needs. Love forgives all offenses, and heals wounds. Love also has the power to make you brave, to face impossible odds, and hard situations.

“I’m not sure of what will happen today during your night in the woods. But I have to trust things will be alright. I hope you know you’ll still have your family, whatever may come.”

“Thank you, Mama.” I smile gratefully at her. I needed the reminder. Perhaps sometimes I take my family’s support for granted, and it’s nice being told they care.

Prim comes home from school, and insists on brushing and braiding my hair for me. I could never say no to my baby sister, so I let her.

She kneels behind me on the bed with our battered brush and goes to work. We talk about school and her goat Lady; Prim mentions a spool of yarn our mother would like and we plot to have our father trade for it at the market. We mention nothing about tonight.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Prim exclaims, jumping out from behind me and rushing to her knapsack. “Madge sent this. She said you need to read it as soon as possible. She was very insistent it was important you read it before going to the woods.”

I frown but take the proffered envelope, then hug Prim in thanks for braiding my hair, and excuse myself to read the note.

There aren’t many places for privacy in our small Seam house, so Prim is the one who leaves our sleeping area to do her homework.

Once I’m alone, I tear into the envelope and start reading.

 

  

> Dear Katniss,
> 
> I hope tonight goes well. I saw Peeta during lunch today and made sure he ate all of his food. Then, during History of Coal class, I made sure he was well hidden while sneaking in a nap. He’s such a sweetheart! He promised me a strawberry jam roll for my troubles. I had to bat his offer away!
> 
> There’s something important I needed you both to know. I’m headed to the bakery after school to see if I can catch Peeta in person. But I found out Mrs. Mellark paid a visit to the Justice Building a few months ago and placed a complaint about “ill” minors potentially reproducing.
> 
> The Capitol launched a small inquiry and your relationship with Peeta was flagged as potentially hazardous to public health.
> 
> Cray got orders from the Capitol to investigate, but you know him. He’s so lazy. He just went up to the Elders and made some threats to keep you both from… you know… being together, I guess. Or keep you from going to the Slag Heap, or who knows what. 
> 
> Please, Katniss, be careful! Cray is useless and generally harmless, but the Capitol is not, and if they decide to fixate on you…

 

(there’s a series of scratched out words, but Madge’s loopy handwrite ends the letter with a warm paragraph)

 

> You’re my best friend and I truly want you to be happy. I’ll try to keep my eyes and ears open for information. Be safe out there! May the odds be ever in your favor.
> 
> Madge.

 

I sit on the bed chewing on the raw skin inside my lip. I wish I could run to the bakery. To Peeta. But I can’t leave my house until is time to transform into my wolf form, so I do the next best thing.

“Daddy!” I run to the kitchen, but only Mother and Prim are there. “Where is he?” I ask in a panick. “Where did he go?”

I turn around and start for the back door, leading to the fenced in goat pen. Before I can turn the knob, my father’s there, frowning in concern.

“What’s wrong, Duckling?”

“Daddy!” I sigh and collapse in his arms. “Madge said— The Capitol... and Cray! What should we do?”

“Whoa, whoa. Calm down, sweetheart.” Father says patting my back. “Let’s have Mama serve you a cup of tea, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”

Prim clears her books off the kitchen table. My mother puts the kettle on the stove and my father sits with me in silence. Eventually, my mother starts rubbing soothing circles on my back, while my father reads Madge’s letter. His scowl deepens when he’s done.

After a long stretch of silence, he passes the letter to mama and says rubbing his forehead,“That explains so many things.”

“It does? All I understood is that this whole mess came because of the witch!” I say harshly.

“Katniss!” Warns my mother. But she’s glowering at the letter too.

”It’s obvious the Elders’ change of heart about you and Peeta originates with Cray. I don’t know what the Capitol will do when they figure out Cray has been inefficient.” Father leans back narrowing his eyes. “There’s no telling what measures they’ll take next, which is the most worrisome part of it.”

“One thing I’m unclear about is, what's the issue is exactly?” Muses my mother, absently running her fingers down Prim’s braid— who’s come to sit on my lap, squeezing my hand in hers.

“Exactly.” Says my father.

‘Infecteds’ have been mating for generations. The virus is unpredictable as it is. There’s no way of knowing what the Capitol is scared about. It’s not like there’s going to be an outbreak of wolf virus running amok because of two teen lycanthropes in love. Talking about the condition is punishable by jail, torture and even death if the guilty party is lucky enough to die at their hands. So there’s no telling why this is an issue now.

There’s concern in my mother’s pretty face, but her bright blue eyes shift to the clock on the wall and her frown deepens.

“Well, no sense trying to figure out everything this second. You’ll be changing soon. Better enjoy supper before you head out into the woods.” Mother bites the inside of her lip and purses her mouth. “You’ll both need your strength tonight.” She finally pulls our attention back to tonight.

My mother has prepared a feast for us. Roasted rabbit sprinkled with rosemary and thyme; mashed katniss tubers with a dash of salt and garlic, that she usually reserves for anti inflammatory medicines; and a piece of cornbread she must’ve traded for in town.

We all thank her for the scrumptious food and tuck in delighted.

After all the food is gone and the dishes have been piled by the sink for mother and Prim to take care of, I make to grab my game bag to dump a change of clothes and a water skin into.

Normally, everyone brings something like it to the edge of the woods. We have designated sides for males and females to undress and store our fresh clothing by the fence, so it’s handy and ready in the morning. Most of our kind transform in the nude since clothing is one of the most expensive necessities for the average miner. No sense destroying good clothes by transforming in it. But once we are back in human form, is nice to put on a clean set of clothes and go about our day as regularly as possible. We’re not allowed to miss school or work because of the full moon, always maintaining the appearance of normalcy for safety’s sake.

My father brings in two buckets full of water from outside and puts them next to the pile of dirty dishes. We have no running water in the Seam, so we have to move buckets of water around to get things clean in the house, especially during the cold months when we can’t bring the dishes or the laundry out to the spigot in the yard.

“Duckling, you don’t need to pack anything.” My father says, watching me rummage around my drawer.

I stare at him. He’s looking a bit purple in the face. I wait for him mutely, afraid of more bad news, but he finally lets the words out. Haltingly.

“I took the liberty to bring your things to the shack by the lake.” He tells me reluctantly.

I can only imagine how difficult this night will be for him, let alone the next morning, when I’ll either be a fugitive of the Elders after murdering the so called challengers, or Peeta’s undisputed mate.

“Oh. Thank you.” I mutter scoffing the toe of my boot against the peeling laminated floor of our kitchen.

“Yeah… even if you don’t end up going there,” my father pauses and scratches his neck. “Figured it was to be ready just in case.”

My mother comes to hug him from behind and finishes for him. “You do what you must to stay safe out there, Katniss. Do not be afraid of letting everyone know that you’re a fighter and stubborn at that! Let them know that you won’t make it easy on them. You have teeth and claws, use them!”

My father looks a little horrorized. He turns to ask my mother, “You realize you just told her she could rebel and fight the system?”

My mother arches a dark blond eyebrow. “Would you rather see your 16 year old daughter be dragged by force into the wilderness by some old stranger we know nothing about?”

My father looks like he’s gonna be sick. He shakes his head, no.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re right, dear.” Says my father staring at her like she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. “I’m still not ready for this, but I know Peeta’s heart, and I’m alright with it.” He kisses my mother’s cheek and she blushes, pawing his chest away goodnaturedly.

I’m not sure what it is that makes my folks’ love so sweet, but I know I want a chance to find out if my own romance with Peeta will be like theirs. I let that thought fill my mind until my mother pulls me into a fierce hug and whispers into my ear.

“You’ve been drinking the medicinal tea for months, you should be fine without it for a couple of days, but use the plants! I got you some just in case. If you’re unsure, don’t be afraid to ask him to pull out before there’s a knot.”

“Mom!” I groan quietly, my eyes going as big as saucers and my cheeks burning crimson.

“There hasn’t been a case of procreation between fully transform wolves, so it’ll be alright to knot while in wolf form.”

“Mama, please!” I call out trying to untangle myself from her death-grip hug, but the woman won’t budge.

“Remember peeing after each and every coital encounter, to avoid urinary track infections. Even if there’s no penetration or eyaculation—“

“Okay!” I finally manage to dodge under her arms and put a whole foot of distance between us. “Got it! Thank you! Gotta go!”

My mother wipes away a tear from her eye. My father shakes his head, smirking. I give Prim a big, tight hug, and I’m out the door after whispering into my sister’s ear. “Never let mama ambush _the talk_ on you!”

Prim snickers and nods. “Good luck, Katniss!” She says. “Give my big brother to-be my love!”

I leave my home in great spirits. I know the night will be long, but I’m confident everything will work out in our favor.

We approach to the edge of the meadow, and my kind converges just a stone’s throw away from the fence.

The evening is drawing to a break. The last vestiges of twilight darken.

I can feel the eyes of my chasers fall on me. The heaviness of their pants resonate with me. I’m about to scream, tell them that I’m not up for grabs. I’m not some trophy to be won!

But the sun is in descent.

Everyone heaves a breath in unison, which does nothing to make my mounting fear ebb; but then out of nowhere, a warm, calloused, strong hand caresses my arm slowly. I’m taken aback by how immediate his familiar touch soothes me. The steadiness Peeta brings to everything feeds my courage.

My eyes find his, though his face is set straight ahead towards the fence. Our hands find each other without further discussion; of course we will go into the woods as one.

We won’t stop fighting for each other, because that’s what we do.

We protect each other.

And then, the pack is running through the gap in the fence, already working to discard their clothes even before reaching the designated storing areas.

Tonight is shaping up to be a doozy, and the moon isn’t even completely out yet.

 

* * *

 

Running, running, running up the hill, following the arch of the full moon.

A frenzy rushes in my veins leading my paws forward, same as my lupine comrades. We move as one, in a dark cloud of fangs and claws and thick fur.

The Pack in its glorious strength would be unstoppable right now.

Then in a fleeting thought I wonder, why do we bend our wills and fall on our backs presenting our weak underbellies to the Capitol?

We reach the summit of our hill. The Elders yip and yap, circling each other, nipping at stragglers, prancing back and forth in a dance old as time, weaved in the DNA of our animal. There’s a throbbing energy in the air electrifying everyone, and in the contagious euphoria, I almost forget this is all because of the challenge and the duel.

It’s all because of me.

And my mate is the one who’ll end it.

Every male in the pack lifts its nose when I pass them by and sniff the air. The unmatched start to break ranks to follow me. My father and a few older females, like Ripper and Rooba, stick around me, making a sort of buffer between the masses.

No one dares to touch me yet. I’m the coveted trophy in a competition of wills. Nobody will approach me until only a few stand. Then they’ll have to get past Peeta, who looks restless and downright terrifying pacing back and forth on the fringes of the crowd.

This may be wishful thinking, but I believe Peeta looks bigger, stockier and more muscular than the last full moon cycle. Perhaps it’s just a trick of my eyes, since I find him so attractive right now, but I swear he grew a foot taller since the last moon.

I watch Peeta prowl around, looking strong and healthy and _oh so yummy_! I grunt and whine, staring at my mate with longing and need. My body heat rises a few degrees, and there’s a sensation of hollowness in my nether regions. I feel the urge to stretch my hind legs in front of Peeta, but everything comes to a crashing stop when the rest of the males start closing in on me, howling and whining.

In a moment, Peeta leaps to the front of the crowd and faces the other males with lips pulled back to show his very big canines, ready to shred flesh. He produces a bruteish bark that sends the majority of the wolves back into the crowd, and starts glowering down at the few that stay in place.

One of the Elders steps forward and growls at Peeta a command to stand down.

Instead, Peeta takes his time staring everyone down, showcasing his dominance, his right to his imprinted mate, before meandering to the back where he resumes his anxious pacing.

After a while, the tension mounts once more. The mob starts to pulse forward again.

An Elder howls a haunting call to the moon, signaling that the fight is a go.

The silences is deafening. Not a single breath is drawn as the seconds tick by making the anticipation palpable.

My old friends: fear and anxiety, rush back into my chest, almost knocking me down when a group of young males rush up to me.

My father is not allowed to intervene, so he just stays a yard behind me, huffing and puffing. Riled up with sheer helplessness, he's standing on his hind legs just to fall on all fours every so often.

But suddenly, the big, scary wolf with piercing blue eyes, sharp fangs and paws as big as dining plates struts deliberately slow in front of me. He makes a show out of sitting there facing the crowd and yawning loudly.

Peeta’s not even bothering with looking menacing.

When the youngsters run up— presumably to fight him— Peeta simply snorts in aggravation and nudges them off with a bump of his shoulder. The juvenile wolves bounce off him in the opposite direction, like raindrops against a solid wall of steel. The young wolves get the picture right away and back off completely, giving way to the next wave of would-be contenders.

I don’t even grace the newcomers with a glance.

The wolf in me takes over and immediately discards the opponents as weak, old and sickly. I regard them with annoyance and turn my head away with a lazy, wheezy yawn. Peeta dispatches them quickly and without much fuss.

A new group approaches. They only seem mildly interested.

These are older, middle age in human standards, but still a capable bunch. This kind of wolf would much rather have casual encounters with available unmatched females, not looking to form a family. But since they’re here, I pay closer attention to this group. The middle aged ones could pose a threat, if one decides to give it a try.

Peeta seems to be of the same mind as me. He sits regally to the side on his hind legs; his front ones remain straight. Sharp claws on display, shining wickedly in the moonlight as a warning. Though he looks calmed, his ears are perked up facing forward at attention.

He watches the other wolves wearily but he stays still on his spot, letting them come closer and sniff the air. Then, he starts making this in crescendo rumbling noise deep in his chest, faintly at first, and somewhat hard to detect unless you really have your ears trained to him, but soon everyone’s aware of the sound.

One male ventures too close, trying to take a better whiff at my tail. This was a mistake the wolf soon realizes.

Peeta’s response is fast and resolute! He flies forward baring his fangs and throws an aggressive bite with a resonating clap of his jaws stopping mere inches away from the other wolf’s muzzle. He’s not going to fight the older guy; the point of this move isn’t to make contact but to warn that he’s ready to cause some damage if provoked.

A small wolffish chuckle escapes me. My mate sure gave this guy a good scare with a simple loud clack of his teeth. The poor fellow jumped one foot in the air and cowered away swiftly, sending the rest of his group back to the safety of the expectators around us.

My father makes an aggravated gurgle behind me. I turn and watch him pace and fidget like a caged tiger.

I feel sorry for him. I know this has to be the worst thing he’s had to witness in his life. Most of this men he knows personally; for all I know they may even be his crew mates from the mines. I can’t fathom what that must feel like, to have the people you have spend day after day, watching each other’s back underground, fight over mating your teenaged daughter.

I try to put myself in his position, and I can sense the distress and anxiety he must be feeling. But while I was distracted watching my father, the real danger arrived.

My father tenses and grows still, he fixes his gray lupine eyes past me.

I hear Peeta’s threatening growl.

I turn my head towards the source of my father’s glaring animosity an realize a new group has stepped out from the crowd.

The main event is finally here.

I’m overwhelmed with unpleasant emotions knotting in the pit of my stomach. The fate of my relationship with my imprinted mate will be decided in mere minutes.

 

 

To be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my decision to split this chapter in two parts: it was too long. 
> 
> It was getting longer and out of hand, and it turned out the Everdeens wanted to participate as a family and wouldn’t shut up, so I let them. 
> 
> The next part should be posted soon, my poor beta is working on the last part which actually gave a lot of grief, because it wasn’t coming out the way I wanted it, but I finally had to let it stay. I’m sure editing with fresh eyes will help.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Wolf Traits:**
> 
> Wolf fighting behaviors are usually employed for two things: establish one male’s standing in the hierarchy of the pack (usually as pups or younglings), and/or to show dominance (alpha male over a subordinate wolf.) If the alpha loses a fight, the challenger assumes alpha status in the pack... so, I guess… fighting serves only the purpose of hierarchy. *shrugs* whatever, it’s the bomb! Wolves rule! 
> 
> There are a few wolf traits/behaviors in this chapter. There are at least two distinct fighting behaviors Peeta displayed during the challenge: Snapping attack, which is used by the alpha to deterre other wolves from starting a fight they can’t finish; and the full brawl and pin down that we will see in the second part of this chapter :)
> 
> Now, Cray’s involvement in The Council recanting their support of Everlark’s relationship is on the open... for the Everdeens at least. Things will develop quickly on the Capitol front after this. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **Personal:** So, I’ve been living in a hotel with my family for the last two weeks. A very long, convoluted story involving a high gas bill and broken 20 y/o water heater, led to the discovery that we had asbestos on the kitchen floor. 
> 
> If you’ve seen any HGTV shows you know what that means... DEMO PROJECT!!! Except, is not fun at all. Haven’t had a kitchen for almost two months, and I tell you eating out everyday for every meal is actually not as cool as you’d think. Long story short. Hopefully I’ll be moving back into my house this weekend. But I’m taking a short break from writing so I can get my stuff straighten out, plus is my son’s first week of second grade and we’ve gotten too used to wake up at 8ish in the AM and having to get up at 6:00 will be a b*tch.
> 
> So... sorry if it takes me a bit to update any of my fics this next couple of weeks. I’ll post the second part of this chapter soon, since is halfway done, but that will be it for a couple of days. Thanks for the understanding!


	5. The Challenge: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my amazing beta Savvylark, she’s truly the greatest, and has been a extremely helpful and insightful. Go read her stories! 
> 
> Beautiful banner by the talented Everlarkingjoshifer. Read her stuff too!!! 
> 
> So... wolf violence and smut ahead... let me know what you think!!

Every wolf previously panting and snorting excitedly at the dominance display Peeta had been putting on, falls quiet in anticipation.

An ominous silence comes over the pack.

The tension grows. I start to feel an unbearable weight pressing me down into the ground.

I start pacing erratically, back and forth, willing this fight to fizzle out… or better yet, not even start. Alas, four wolves step forward from the crowd, proud and confident, to face my mate in challenge.

This are all strong, fit specimens, baring their canines ready to fight and tear into flesh.

Peeta narrows his lupine blue eyes, assessing his challengers as he resumes his post deliberately slow, blocking me from their view. He stands with his front legs planted widely at each side of his body; his head is lower than his rump, and his muzzle is wrinkled back in a low, angry growl that promises injury to his opponents.

The challengers assume a fighting stance as well. Bodies crouched and tails cocked forward; lips pulled back displaying long pointy fangs, and ears almost flat along their skulls.

Peeta’s ears twitch and turn back then forward, listening to every breath, every grunt, every shift in feet that may betray his attackers movements. His eyes, usual pools of placid blue irises go dark and wild. The sounds he’s making are otherworldly and eerie in the silence of the night.

And as one, the duel starts with all the contenders circling each other in a hostile dance.

“This is it!” I think to myself. “This is where The Pack will tear my life apart if Peeta doesn’t win.”

The hair at the top of my neck, all the way down my shoulders and far into my back stand on point. I feel the claws of panic harping into my chest, piercing my flesh and threatening to drown me in fear.

One by one, the wolves lower their heads and raise their hackles. Then, all hell breaks loose in a volatile confrontation.

All five of my ‘suitors’ jump forward at the same time in a flash of fangs and claws.

The Pack goes wild with howls and barks. Low cawing motions urging the fighters on. They’re eating up the excitement and rush of adrenaline.

Meanwhile, I drop on my underbelly, whining and cover my eyes with my front paws, because I can’t bare to witness all this violence.

My father can’t take it any longer either and leaps to my side. He nudges me with his nose, whining quietly and licking my right paw. I move it off my eye so I can look at him. He makes a series of gagging sounds, trying to coax me to stand, but I just can’t. The noises coming from the fight are too raw, too unsettling.

I can hear the unmistakable sound of teeth snapping shut; heavy bodies colliding against each other in loud thuds. The tearing of fur and hide, followed by yips and painful whines. Not to mention the low growls and bloodcurdling barks; the familiar sound of flesh savagely tearing under sharp claws and teeth.

I’ve killed enough big game— deer, wild dog, and once, even a lynx that decided to follow me around, scaring off my prey— I recognize the sounds of the struggle and the metallic smell of spilled blood. Why would I want to see that? Just hearing it is upsetting enough!

But my father insists I brave the horror and stand with him; face my fear. I do understand why. At some point you have to stop running and face the things that want to kill you. In this case, _mate with you by_ _force_ under the guise of tradition and animal instinct. So I make myself stand and watch the duel, as horrifying as it is.

The first contender falls, sporting a gash to his shoulder exposing flesh and tendons where hair and skin are missing.

My mother will have to put this guy under with sleep syrup before she can even clean up his wound. My father hops forward to follow the hurt wolf, with a similar train of thought no doubt, until he remembers he’s supposed to stay with me for moral support.

He hops back to sit next to me, but I can tell he’s thinking about the first casualty of the challenge. Hurt wolves can be dangerous, and father probably wishes he was escorting this guy back to the healer. None of us likes taking any chances with my mother’s safety.

I turn just in time to see Peeta being jumped in all directions by the remaining three wolves. I recognize Gale’s jet black coat, shiny and thick under the moonlight.

_Jerk!_

I think the other two are a few years older than us, but Peeta is bigger and heavier than them. He throws them all off with a shake of his strong body.

One of the wolves land right behind Peeta’s hind leg. In a moment of distraction, the wolf sinks his teeth into Peeta’s exposed hock, bringing him down with a loud yelp. The other two take the chance to attack his flank relentlessly.

_It’s so unfair!_

Before I’m aware of my actions, I’ve enter the fray as well. I’m bodyslaming into the one wolf trying to thrash his head while holding Peeta’s neck between his jaws.

“ _Not on my watch, buster!_ ” I call out in my head. My back foot lands on something squishy and a yowl of pain erupts from underneath me.

I look down mildly curious and positively confused, just to find Gale’s slate eyes flash with anger, pain and humiliation before falling shut as his body recoils from my feet.

“ _Oops!_ ”

I’ve stepped on Gale’s scrotum.

If I could shrug, I would. Serves him right!

I step back when an elder breaks from the group of onlookers and charges at me, but Peeta is up and enraged. He intercepts the offending wolf, eyes crazed, teeth bared and dripping hot slobber mixed with traces of blood. He looks feral and deranged.

The action takes the elder by surprise, causing him to retreat hastily. Lest he end up like the second fallen wolf: lying on his side unconscious.

I was so busy ‘accidentally’ digging my foot into the Hawthorne’s _family jewels,_ I don’t even know when or how it happened; but sure enough, there’s the prone form of another wolf just sprawled on the ground, head lolling to the side with his tongue hanging way out of his wide open mouth almost comically.

Hopefully the rest of the pack gets the message once and for all!

Don’t. Mess. With. _Us_!!!

We’ll get you, and we’ll make you regret it!

In a very dumb turn of events, during the moment that it took to rebuke the intervention of the elder, the second to last wolf left standing turned against Gale. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but out of the blue, the two wolves are locked in a fisticuffs with jaw snaps and low groans.

Peeta just cocks his head to the side watching them go at it quizzically.

I think my mate finds the development entertaining, because he sits on his hind legs and produces a snorting sound I recognize as Wolf-Peeta’s chuckles.

I’m not complaining.

This is just getting the two idiots tired, while simultaneously allowing Peeta a well deserved rest. But Gale finally notices Peeta is just sitting there, watching with amusement and he pushes the other wolf off in order to charge at Peeta.

The second wolf takes the hint and follows suit, but his movements are sluggish and his breathing labored. He stops to catch his breath at one point losing a lot of ground to Peeta and Gale.

I roll my eyes.

The idiot should’ve stuck with that mob-attack against Peeta strategy they started at the very beginning of the duel. Wolf number two is exhausted and has absolutely no chance at winning now, not that I really care.

I find it mildly ridiculous for someone in his position to think that going for the lesser of two threats was a smart move, when they were already working together for the common goal of eradicating the strongest opponent. He deserves to lose!

As I predicted, Peeta swipes his paw on the second wolf’s face— more accurately: a bitch-slap to the snout— and the wolf stumbles back, dazed. Three jagged slashes appear on the top of his muzzle, already seeping blood from the cuts. The wolf seems genuinely stunned, blinking in confusion and shaking his head a few times. He bows out of the fight as honorably as possible, leaving only Gale trying to best my mate.

Gale watches the defeated wolf with disdain and shakes his head causing dirty, sticks and dead leaves to fly in all directions from his short onyx mane.

I’m sure Peeta’s coat is also covered in similar debris, but he doesn’t seem too bothered about it. There will be time for grooming later. Right now he has to cement his dominance and show he’s the most apt candidate to mate tonight, and eventually procreate.

The pack goes into rambunctious cheering, bouncing on their front paws or against each other in anticipation for this very last clash, as if the previous melee had just been a minuscule appetizer to quell their thirst for a good one-on-one fight for the trophy.

I’m disgusted, scared and anxious.

I wish I could skip the ugly parts and go straight to the outcome. Whether Peeta wins or loses, I know I’m not mating with Gale.

But I’ve already decided! If Gale does win the duel, I’ll go into the woods with him, then I’ll lead him to where I know there’s a tracker jacker nest; I’ll disturbe the hive behind his back, and leave him there to deal with the jackers on his own.

I may bite his snout first. Haven’t decided that part yet.

I _imprinted_ with Peeta, and _Peeta’s_ the one I’m _mating_ with!

Peeta and Gale size each other. The expectators watch with bated breaths, urging the contenders to fight, fight, fight. Tear, tear, tear. Bite, bite, bite. One wolf from the crowd even snaps at Gale’s ankle when he widens his circling too close to the throng.

What’s the difference between this group of bloodthirsty wolves and the odious Capitolites of old that clamoured for the blood of our young in the Hunger Games?

_None!_

I’m shaken to the core by the realization. People will be the same in similar contexts no matter what. At least here the only casualties will be a few wounded egos, which is a healthy lesson to learn.

Suddenly, Gale leaps onwards first. His head collides with Peeta’s chest, knocking him off balance for a moment.

Peeta regains his footing right away and sidesteps a second charge from Gale, turning around and snapping his jaws at Gale’s hip. He must've just taken a mouthful of hair, since Gale looks unfazed.

They circle around each other, baring their teeth. The hair on their backs standing on point. They lunge at each other again.

The violence comes swift and brutal.

Gale throws a bite to Peeta’s front leg as his claws descend on Gale’s face. Blood sprouts from deep cuts that go from Gale’s right ear to his jaw. Gale catches Peeta’s cheek and pulls on the skin until a chunk of fur falls out.

Peeta’s wheat colored coat starts to darken on his left flank. Mud and blood have mixed just above his thigh where Gale’s teeth have left deep punctures. Peeta rounds back to sink his fangs on Gale’s upper front leg, and the latter body slams him backwards.

The growls and barks coming from the them— Savage and aggressive— just make me queasy. I can’t bear to hear anymore.

I lower my head to the ground and cover my ears with my front legs. I start whining pitifully, until my father drops down next to me and lays his head on top of mine in solidarity. A moment later, another warm, heavy body ambles closer and plops on my other side, scooting closer, laying a head across my back and whining with me.

I recognize Bran’s familiar scent. It differs from Peeta’s just enough to make it unique to him. 

I guess my pheromones lost effect on him. It’s clear he can’t stand watching his brother in this brawl anymore than I can.

The rest of the pack howls the minutes away, until we hear a pitiful cry, followed by a guttural bark.

Bran, my father, and I snap our heads at attention in time to see Peeta pinning Gale to the ground, holding a mouthful of his neck while viciously thrashing his head from side to side making the most terrible noises I’ve ever heard from a lycanthrope.

Gale isn’t moving. Not even a whimper comes out of him.

I’m suddenly scared for Gale’s life! Peeta has gone mutt on him and won’t let go. Not even when a few elders and his brother— that had rushed from my side like a whip— try to persuade him to unlock his jaw from his opponent’s hide.

Nobody is supposed to actually die during this challenges. Peeta will be devastated if he’s the one making the first kill, no matter how angry, scared and stressed out this whole event has made us. Peeta’s not a murdered. He’ll be appalled to turn into some monster he’s not.

Before I’m conscious of my actions, I’m standing in front of Peeta, hovering above Gale’s inert body.

Something between a groan and a whimper escapes my throat when I open my mouth to call Peeta’s name. He doesn’t look up, but Gale does.

Gale’s big, suffering lupine eyes plea with me to help him. His eyelids close again. I nuzzle to his cheek with my nose, telling him that I’ll get Peeta off him. To hang in there.

I’ve never used my _mate voice_ before, and approaching him right now may even be suicide, but I have no other choice! I have to snap Peeta out of this vengeful trance! So I square my shoulders and raise my front paw, placing it on my mates heaving chest right above his frantically beating heart and press into his fur with all my might. Then I grunt as commandingly as I can.

The sound comes out gentler and more compassionate than I expected, surprising myself.

It does the trick.

Peeta shudders, then stops jerking on Gale’s hide slowly, until he comes to a complete stop and let’s go of his prey. He’s disoriented for a moment, but I see him blink the wild rage-full mutt away.

Slowly, Peeta’s blue eyes return to their serene selves, which only makes the sight before me all the more jarring. His muzzle is covered in blood; whether it's his, Gale’s or somebody else’s, I don’t know.

Gore doesn’t belong in my sweet Peeta’s face.

My mate’s dark pupils scan the area before settling on me. He wags his tail for a second, seemingly happy to see me, but he most see something in my face that concerns him a bit, because he cocks his head in confusion. He tries to lean into me to lick my nose, but my gut reaction has me pull off and shy away.

I can see the confusion deepening in his eyes, but when his tongue darts out of his mouth his question is answered.

I can only imagine the unsettling feelings he goes through. There’s shock clearly etched on his expression, when the distinct metallic flavor and pungent smell of blood finally registers with him.

He goes to paw the mess off his muzzle, but to his palpable horror, he realizes he’s standing on squishy flesh.

Peeta looks down in alarm, and jumps off Gale right away. Carefully, slowly, he tips his head towards the defeated wolf, and nudges his nose to Gale’s with apprehension. Once Gale grunts in pain, Peeta’s whole body relaxes with the knowledge that Gale’s alive, which means he should recover soon enough.

Gale’s family and a few other wolves descend on him quickly as they intend to escort him away from the makeshift battle ground. He whimpers in pain the whole time they try to move him onto Thom’s back to be brought to my mother. I see Gale laying on his side, his tail tucked down between his legs before rolling up into a tight ball. Then, Gale’s  convoy is gone.

A sepulchral silence blankets over the gathered wolves watching us. I’m getting restless and uncomfortable, but then Peeta snorts, calling my attention to him.

His eyes had been following Gale’s departure with rapt attention, but now he’s staring at me with an unmistakable question in his incredulous eyes.

A wolf getting pinned during an altercation is the most humiliating way to lose a match. In the wild, vital body parts such as necks and underbellies get exposed to sharp fangs in that position. Not a very good way to go.

Peeta went almost completely feral on Gale in the last few minutes of the duel, but after he had him pinned to the ground, it was all over.

There’s _one_ unquestionable winner!

I turn to my father. He gives me a meaningful look before trotting up to me. He licks my nose lovingly and steps back to heave a big, lupine sigh. He turns his gray, wise eyes to Peeta and back at me. With a curt nod, my father gives us his blessing. Then he turns away from us and rushes through the mob of wolves still lingering for the last part of the ritual, disappearing into the distance.

I’m sure tonight has been hard enough for him. He’s heading back to our house in the Seam, to make sure my mother has protection as she tends to so many wounded wolves. The Everdeens won’t be sleeping tonight, but I guess having to mend all those guys will keep my folks’ minds off of what Peeta and I will be doing in the shack by lake.

I take a shaky breath myself, because the next part of the ritual is all on me.

I just wish I could do this in private. To close the shutters and stay away from all the prying eyes of my pack.

“ _Why can’t they all be like my father?”_

I turn my attention to Peeta, whose eyes are still wide and expectant. I steel myself, take a few steps in front of him.

_My Peeta. My mate._

We’re still in this together. That’s all the encouragement I need.

My pulse spikes and if I was capable of sweating normally, my skin would be covered in a thin film of the stuff.

I position myself just a foot away from Peeta, my back to him, my face to the audience that’s simmering in excitement at what’s to happen. Then drawing one more mouthful of air, I lift my tail and cock it to the side, right as I turn my head to look at Peeta over my shoulder meaningfully.

It’s a ritual as old as time, it is the way of the wolves. And it’s high time I get to do it myself.

I present my hot, engorged vulva to the wolf I want to mate with, and suddenly the pack’s presence fades into the recess of my mind. The intruding howls and yaps become part of the background, inconsequential to my actions and the way my mate’s eyes grow dark and feral on a different kind of way.

He knows I’m his, and now is time to take his claim and make it official.

Peeta steps towards me with purpose. A smolder in his gaze that makes me giddy with anticipation.

He stops just a few inches from me and stares into my eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he brings his nose to the base of my tail and inhales my scent deeply. His pupils immediately blow out, and a soft, low whine leaves his throat before his tongue takes a tiny swipe of my exposed behind.

Is all I can do not to howl myself.

I force myself to stay still for a second and a third swipes of Peeta’s warm, soothing tongue while a puff of his  breath fans over me, cooling my overheated sex. My legs give way and I stumble forward, but my loving mate is there to catch me.

Peeta nuzzles my hip bone with his head, and draws his whole body against my side, snuggling as close as he can making soft aroused coping noises at the back of his throat. 

He’s so much bigger than me, my slimmer frame dwarfs next to his, but he still manages to nudge his head under my neck and rub it affectionately against me. I produce a soft caw of my own, and lick his ear in response. His tongue darts, thick and wet to lick my nose, but he still smells like blood, and I can’t stop the sneeze tickling my nostrils. Just like that, I’m rudely brought back to awareness of our audience.

The Pack is loudly barking and yapping happily, but they’ve seen all that I’m willing to share with them.

Peeta stops his cuddling to stare at me in concern but I shake my head to let him know I’m okay.

It’s time to go though.

Whatever I’m feeling right now is not The Pack’s business but mine. Is time for some privacy, plus there are entire patches on Peeta’s body soaked in blood we have to get cleaned up before anything else happens.

I grunt and Peeta’s ears perk up. I snort and his tongue lolls out of his mouth like a carefree puppy. I start walking in the direction of my father’s old shack, knowing the lake there won’t be frozen solid at least.

Peeta starts strutting next to me with his head high and dignified— he's tucked his tongue back into his mouth— except his tail wags every other step, betraying his triumphant cadence and revealing his happiness and excitement.

The crowd of wolves part a path for us and start howling to the moon as soon as we’ve walked by. Some of the males bump Peeta’s sides in congratulations as he passes. A few elder females follow us to the edge of today’s hunting grounds, and bark a song for us as we step deeper into the wilderness.

The whole time, Peeta’s body is so close to mine I’m afraid my own coat is gonna end up all matted; but as soon as we are completely alone, the flirting and courting begins!

Peeta hops around me, from side to side; then starts wagging his tail while making this ridiculous grunting noises trying to coax me into playing a game of tag. He’s too funny and cute to ignore, and before I know it, I’m wheezing at him and bumping shoulders with him. A second later we’re dashing through the forest uninhibited and carefree, chasing one another in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Except we’re really not trying hiding at all, because we want to be found. And finally we come over a hill. The reflection of the full moon over the quiet waters of the lake greets us like long awaited guests.

It’s true what they say about time flying by when you’re having fun. The shack and the lake are a good several miles away from the hunting grounds, but it feels like we made it here in no time at all.

Peeta and I stop at the top of the hill just to breathe in the cold, welcoming air, filling our lungs with freedom and peace, and the promise of a sweet future together, framed by the beautiful landscape in front of us.

Our eyes find each other, and I can see the infectious sheer joy in his. Our foreheads come together, we rub our noses affectionately until the stench of drying blood makes me sneeze, startling my mate.

He looks at me with wide puppy eyes, and I don’t hide my amusement. Instead, I lick his cheek, bump my forehead against the same spot I just kissed, and tear off running down the hill toward the water.

Peeta watches me confused, until I call out to him. Then he’s chasing me again.

We zigzag downhill, leaping gleefully over the protruding rocks on the way; panting and twitching our ears in the chilly air.

Peeta lags behind me, and I lift my tail giving him access to what he truly wants.

He gives my privates the longest lick yet, quickly followed by a shorter one, just to be sure I’m almost completely ready for him, which should be plainly clear by how I shiver in response to his ministrations.

I feel a rush of fluid push out of me, exacerbating the heat of my already over sensitive nerve endings. It’s a delicious torture, the way he laps at my arousal. Like he can’t get enough of me. And by the pleased expression on his lupine face, I’m sure Peeta knows what he’s doing to me. So in revenge for his cockiness, I jump into the frigid lake and splash him with freezing water.

Peeta stands on the sandy bank, caught of guard and literally frozen-- just for a moment. Then he too jumps into the lake and we frolic in the chilled lake for what feels like hours. We get him clean up from the gore of the fight virtually quick, but linger in the shallow end of the lake playing and splashing each other until we can’t feel our paws anymore.

By now the flirting has reached the peak of playfulness, with Peeta hopping up over my back in wolffish hugs, putting his nose behind my ears or under my chin and nuzzling sweetly. But the carefree affection is descending into something more heated and frantic. There’s pressure pooling on my genitalia and it feels about twice as swollen than before, I know the sight of me will drive my mate crazy, calling for his hungry eyes and clever tongue to soothe the increasing discomfort of my estrous.

Peeta spends an inordinate amount of  time testing my readiness now. I’m about as slick for him as I’m gonna get, and Peeta is pacing around me unable to restrain himself. He whines, taking another generous swipe of my arousal half begging and half commanding to take pity on him.

I gaze at the werewolf I love over my shoulder and see the pink flesh of his penis strain forward from its sheath of soft fur. 

It’s time.

I turn around; bump noses with him; he licks my muzzle, then my eyes, then my ears. I return the sweet gesture by nuzzling my cheek against his. One of his front legs drapes around my neck and our foreheads rest together. We release smoky puffs of breath, that mingle between us and rise to the sky as one.

Our eyes connect, and I take a step back from him.

The love and devotion in Peeta’s gaze is unmistakable. I don’t hesitate to assume my position in front of him, cocking my tail to the side in invitation for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. _I need him._ I turn my head to watch his blue eyes darken and fix on my displayed entrance. His eyes dart to mine just for a moment and I nod.

Peeta breathes my pheromones deeply and his hot tongue flattens against my opening.

I'm nearly dizzy with my heightened senses and awareness.

Then everything happens very fast: Peeta’s front paws hold onto my hip bones; he draws me to him and pulls himself up on his hind legs. With a smooth thrust of his pelvis, he mounts me. We join successfully on our first try, fulfilling my desires.

My mate’s penis penetrates my vaginal canal, hooking and locking into position, coaxing a loud, long, almost pained howl to the moon that felt as if it came from his loins.

I’m sure the whole district heard him. My suspicions are somewhat answered by the responding howls scattered in the distance. I’m too far gone to care, let alone feel embarrassment about it right now, but the pack is now fully aware that we’ve mated.

I feel the prickle of Peeta’s claws digging minutely into my thighs. He’s holding on for dear life; his eyes shut tightly, and his mouth goes slack, comically forming a silent howl. The lower half of his body trembles with the exertion of standing on hind legs while thrusting shallowly into me.

Meanwhile, I can barely keep my own eyes open, let alone focus. I can hear myself panting and whining wantonly, as my mate’s cock starts to swell inside me, pushing deeper and deeper into my heated channel. My walls are tightening, and the head of his cock is bulging, and expanding impossibly larger the deeper he goes.

A burst of arousal washes between our entwined bodies, and Peeta’s claws dig an inch deeper into my fur, bringing my body flushed against his. He’s practically laying on my back, long, strong front legs draped over and around my middle.

He’s yelping now, grunting and groaning as his hips piston into my rear frantically. He sinks his teeth into my left ear, and pulls it between his front teeth, filling my eardrums with grunts, grunts, grunts.

There isn’t much I can do but bear his weight on all four of my locked-in legs, panting with my head and neck thrown back against his. I’m completely, physically surrounded by my mate.

If we function in a conventional wolf hyrarchy, Peeta would be my alpha and the only wolf in my world now. I surrender to him, and pledge my life to his. I know he’s doing the same to me in return when he seeks my face to nuzzle and lick.

Our sexual organs are so swollen around the other, that no matter how hard Peeta thrusts into me, his cock is not sliding back and forth anymore.

The knot is complete.

I feel so full, so pushed to the limit. I think of all the things that I love about Peeta. How hot and fiery our first kiss was all those years ago, and what a startling pale sensation that was compared to this moment when I am joined with my mate. My vision goes hazy as everything in me hums with pleasure. I know I will never forget this moment for the rest of my life.

I yelp in surprise when his teeth sink into my shoulder muffling his howls as he cums for the first time tonight, and I cum with him, groaning low and gutural. The bliss I feel overwhelms my entire wolf to the point of nirvana.

We’re a matched pair now, and I couldn’t feel any happier, full and energized for the rest of the night. Though I’m not aware of it, the moon is already fading. Morning will break in just a few hours. We will be knotted for a while and I’m already excited about doing this all over again... as humans!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss already said it during the fight, but the worst thing that can happen to a wolf is to be pinned down by another. Normally, wolves don’t fight to kill within members of the pack, but being pinned down during combat will likely end deadly since the dominating wolf has access to vulnerable body parts. 
> 
> Katniss exhibited another real behavior when presenting her genitals to Peeta. It’s called Flagging, and is usually done by the alpha female during her estrous, inviting her chosen wolf to mate with her. In the wild, mating for the purpose of procreation, is reserved for the alpha pair, and the She-wolf usually “chooses” her partner. 
> 
> Flirting, bonding and copulating: wolves in the wild become very affectionate with their mates in the weeks leading to the Heat. They will be playful and spend a lot of time together. They will even sleep right against each other. This is called the Bonding time. The male will often “hug” the female and they will mouth their muzzles and rub noses together. Then Copulation will occur. The male will lick the females genitals to test her readiness. Once the male mounts the female, his penis will swell and the vaginal walls of the female will constrict creating a knot. Sperm will be released after the knot. The couple will remain joined together for up to 45 minutes, in which there may be more ejaculations. The coupled wolves will remain affectionate with each other for days. 
> 
> So... real life wolves are sweet lovers!!! 
> 
> Was Gale punished enough? Katniss actually did step on his ball sack, so… you’re welcome Mega and Lou.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I think it’s fair to mention how Xerxia encouraged me take on this prompt. I think her exact words were “I know you’ll do it justice.” So I truly hope I do it justice. I love me some supernatural 
> 
> Since I'm using a "full moon cycle" for this fic, the pack will be able to transform at night every night for tree days. I know is not exactly based on traditional folklore to werewolves, but go with it just for funsies?!?!
> 
> I may had borrowed the concept of imprinting on a mate from Twilight since it was the thing I truly liked about that series, but I hope to expand more in the WHY of the imprint. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @alliswell21


End file.
